Stay Inside the Lines
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Tim-centered AU fic set around season 3 and 4. What if Tim wasn't able to join NCIS but instead was forced to work for DARPA? What happens when circumstances bring him into contact with NCIS? Already complete. 36 chapters and an epilogue. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is an AU story. The bulk of it is set around season 3 and 4, but it begins with the premise of Tim not joining NCIS. This was undertaken by request...and it's been two years that I've been working on it. It is Tim centered, but the rest of the team are in it quite prominently as well.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own NCIS or the characters. I'm not making money off this story, but I did my best to fit it into canon...albeit with a twist.

* * *

><p><strong>Stay Inside the Lines<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

_They love to tell you  
><em>_Stay inside the lines  
><em>_But something's better  
><em>_On the other side _

_I wanna run through the halls of my high school  
><em>_I wanna scream at the  
><em>_Top of my lungs  
><em>_I just found out there's no such thing as the real world  
><em>_Just a lie you got to rise above_

– "_No Such Thing" by John Mayer_

**Chapter 1**

"Do you mean it, Mr. Larsen?" Tim asked.

"Tim, your abilities are so far beyond what I can do with computers that, if you didn't have another year left before you graduated, you could probably get admitted to MIT."

Tim sat back in his chair and stared at his computer teacher in shock. When Mr. Larsen had told him to stay after class today, he had assumed that he'd done something wrong...or that Mr. Larsen was going to try and probe about the bullying that had only got worse after his parents had accelerated him. Graduating at sixteen didn't make him a genius, but it didn't help rid him of the stereotype or the attention of the bullies. ...but it hadn't been either of his fears.

"What does that mean?" Tim asked. "I mean...for me. What does it mean?"

"It means that you should make sure you keep all your grades up because you'll want to get a scholarship. With my recommendation and your certifications in A+, DHTI+, and being able to work with both hardware and software...and this burgeoning Internet stuff that you seem to love...you'll be a shoe-in if that's what you want to do."

"It sounds wonderful. I can't wait to tell my parents!"

Mr. Larsen smiled. "If they have any questions, tell them to contact me. I'll be more than happy to explain everything to them."

Tim jumped to his feet. "Okay! Okay, I will. Thanks, Mr. Larsen!"

He was nearly bursting all the way home. Staying after school had saved him from the usually-inevitable torment, _and_ he had received the best news he'd had since being allowed to take his first computer class...since being told that they'd be staying in this area until he graduated so that he'd be able to be in the same school for more than a couple of years in a row. How could this day get any better?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What are you saying?" his mother asked.

"That I could go to MIT," Tim said excitedly.

He was so excited that he failed to notice his parents' lack of excitement. His dad was home early for once and he was so excited to explain it that he talked a lot more and a lot faster than he ever had probably in his entire life.

"Mr. Larsen said that I could even get a scholarship, that they'd be really excited to have me! All this computer stuff that I've been doing...it could really do things for me!"

There was a silence and it finally dawned on Tim that his parents weren't smiling.

"Aren't you happy?" he asked.

"It's very nice of Mr. Larsen, Tim," his mother said.

"But?"

His mother looked at his father and Tim noticed that his dad was far from happy.

"You're not going to MIT, Tim," he said.

"What do you mean? It's not like we'd have to pay for it if I got a scholarship."

"It's not the money, Tim," his mom said gently.

His father was not so gentle.

"You've known since you were a lot younger that you're going into the Navy, Tim."

"Dad, I don't _want_ to join the Navy!" he said loudly...and then swallowed worriedly. He'd never actually come out a _said_ that, although he would have thought that his parents would have noticed his lack of enthusiasm.

"You have a tradition to uphold, Tim. This computer stuff you've been doing is all well and good. It will look better to Naval Academy," his dad said.

"You can keep on with it there, Tim," his mom said.

"I don't want to be in the Navy!" Tim said again. "Dad, you _know_ I get seasick! It doesn't matter the size of the boat!"

"It's all in your head, Tim," he dad said sternly. "Once you're out there..."

"No! Dad, it doesn't work like that! I know it's what you want! I know it's what everyone has planned for me, but this...this MIT is what _I_ want! Doesn't that matter?"

"You can choose your Navy school, Tim. You can keep on with this stuff you do on the computer, but you're joining the Navy. You'll be graduating early, but you can be admitted to the Naval Academy as soon as you turn seventeen. This is a family tradition, Tim. My father was an admiral. His father was an officer in the Navy, too. You will carry on the tradition. The McGees serve their country."

"Why do I have to serve the country the way _you_ think I should? You had to give up whatever _you_ wanted to do and so I have to do the same?" Tim asked. Then, he looked down. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"Tim, we're not telling you that you have to give up on computer work," his mother said quickly, before his father could do more than bristle. "For all we know, this may be a wonderful opportunity for you to get even further. You can keep on with it in the Navy."

Tim could tell that there was no hope at this point of convincing them that what he wanted was best. He sighed.

"I have homework," he said softly.

"Dinner will be in about an hour."

"Okay."

Tim hurried upstairs and went into his room. He had lied. He didn't have homework. He'd finished it all before.

_Why doesn't what I want matter? Why do I have to do what everyone else has done?_

He turned on his computer and started writing another program. He had started it the day before just to see if he could. The certifications he had weren't enough to slake his desire to know more. He just had more and more that he wanted to do. It didn't matter how many times he'd said it. His dad would never accept that he got seasick, that it had nothing to do with Tim _wanting_ to be that way. He just was.

There was a soft knock on his door.

"Timmy?"

"What, Sarah?" he asked glumly.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door opened.

"You and Mom and Dad were fighting."

"Yeah."

"Why don't you like the Navy?" she asked, sitting on his bed.

Tim turned toward her.

"I don't hate the Navy. I just don't want to be a part of it. I want to do what I want to do, and they just don't care about it."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "Why do they tell you that but not me?"

"Because I'm a guy."

Sarah walked over and hugged him.

"Maybe you'll like it."

"I doubt it...unless I learn to like feeling like I'm going to throw up."

"Alma told me that dogs eat their puke," she said and grinned.

"Gross! That's disgusting, Sarah," Tim said, sticking his tongue out at her.

"But it's true, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm not a dog."

Sarah laughed and Tim felt his mood lift a little. Maybe he could think of something, some way to get out of this trap that seemed to be ready to snap around him. He didn't want the Navy. He had never wanted the Navy and he never _would_. It had taken his father away from him when he was little. It had made his dad blind to what his son wanted. Why would Tim want to join something that made someone like that? He'd figure something out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One year later..._

Tim took a deep breath. This could go wrong in a lot of ways, but he was ready. Nothing had changed. His application had been sent in. He'd been forced to tell Mr. Larsen that he wasn't going to try for MIT. His dad had started taking him out on ships every weekend just to "help" him get over his seasickness. In short, his ability to choose what he wanted from his life was about to end. This would do it.

He figured he'd thought of everything. After his car accident, he had spent a long time just thinking about how to do this and everything that might not work right, everything that _could_ work right. He was still a minor. He wouldn't hurt anything. It would be illegal, yes, and that would stop the Navy from wanting him. ...but it wouldn't cause any damage. He didn't want to do anything _really_ wrong...just wrong enough.

Satisfied that he'd never have a better chance than now while his parents were gone and Sarah was sleeping over at a friend's house, Tim got online and headed for ARPA. He had routed out just what it would take to get there, and how he could do it from his home. Normally, the connection he could get to the so-called information superhighway wouldn't be enough, but he'd played around with that, too. His parents had agreed to let him get access to the Internet as a sop after deciding to destroy his life, and he was going to use it to save himself.

The Department of Defense's research arm, the Advanced Research Projects Agency, had loads of interesting things going on...lots of it classified because it was military-related research. Today, that wasn't going to stop him. Choosing ARPA was mostly because of everything he'd read about the Internet. ARPANET was the first to come. It had only been fully decommissioned in 1991, and it seemed fitting to use ARPA to help him out. Its legacy had shown him so much already.

"Okay, Tim. Here we go."

He started typing. At first, he wasn't sure where to go once he got in, but he saw some space technology projects and headed for them. Once he was inside, he decided to look around a little bit before making some noise and getting out. This stuff looked _really_ interesting.

After twenty minutes, he reluctantly pulled himself away from the fascinating information. He let his presence be known and he got out of the space technology and into some of the other military projects, some of the radar experiments, stealth fighters...until he saw that he was being traced.

"Time to get out, Tim," he said to himself and quickly got out. He couldn't let it be _too_ obvious that he was trying to get caught.

Then, he turned off the computer and settled down to wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They were attending the celebration of the Navy's birthday. It was a common thing for the higher-ranking officers. The McGees never missed. A McGee of one generation or another was _always_ in attendance at one of these functions.

But today ended up being very different.

"Admiral McGee...sir."

"Loren...honey," Joan whispered.

Loren looked at her and then at the ensign standing nervously in front of him.

"What is it, Ensign?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but you've been asked to speak with the Secretary of the Navy and some people from the Department of Defense."

"About what, Ensign?"

"I don't know, sir," he said but then leaned forward just a little. "It seems really serious. The DoD people weren't here before."

Loren looked at his wife. He'd only achieved the rank of rear admiral the month before. To have something serious like this could be a very bad thing.

"Joan, I'll be back."

"Okay." Joan nodded and forced herself to smile and then walk over to one of the groups who were chatting.

Loren walked alongside the ensign, wishing that he felt easy enough to make conversation. He didn't. He had been raised to be a Navy officer. It was his life and he really didn't know how to be anything else. It had been a long time since he'd been an ensign.

"Just in here, sir," the ensign said.

"Thank you, Ensign," Loren said and stepped into the room, keeping himself as calm as possible. He had no idea what to expect here, but he was glad not to come into it thinking things were going to be pleasant. He could deal with a stressful situation.

...or so he thought.

"Rear Admiral Loren McGee?"

"Yes, sir," he said, recognizing the Secretary of the Navy. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Is this your son, Admiral McGee?" asked a man he didn't recognize.

The man stepped aside and to Loren's shock, Tim was brought forward...in handcuffs. He looked frightened.

"Hi, Dad," he whispered.

"Tim."

"This is your son?"

"Yes. What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry, Dad!" Tim said. "I didn't think! I thought that..." He trailed off.

"What's going on?" Loren asked again. "Why do you have my son in handcuffs?"

"Mr. Orlen here says that your son hacked ARPA tonight."

Loren's eyes widened and he looked at Tim, silently asking him if this was true. Tim's eyes dropped...which was an answer in and of itself. Tim wasn't a good liar. He generally chose to say nothing rather than lie about it.

"ARPA?"

"Yes. As you might guess, this is not the...behavior we'd expect from the son of a rear admiral of the Navy," Mr. Orlen said.

"Did you...do anything in there, Tim?"

"No! I just looked! Dad, I didn't think about how this would look for you! Really, I didn't! I promise!"

"I believe you, Tim. What's going to happen?"

"That's something we need to talk about. Now."

"Okay. Talk...but take off the cuffs. My son won't run."

For a moment, Orlen didn't move.

"You didn't hear me, I guess," Loren said. "Remove the handcuffs from my son's wrists."

"Very well."

The cuffs were removed and Tim sat down on a chair. Loren sat down beside his son.

"What is going to happen?"

"There are a couple of options. First, your son has hacked into secure military project files. He is a potential traitor. That means we can treat him as an adult. He'll go to juvenile detention for the next year if he's lucky and then to prison for the rest of his life. The second option..."

Loren's heart had plummeted to his shoes.

"...is that he start working for us."

Tim's head jerked up. "What?"

"Your son showed a skill that many of our trained employees don't have. If he starts working for us, he'll be read into classified material and there's no harm done."

"Those are the only two options?"

"There is court, of course. He wouldn't go to prison until convicted, but that won't look very good for anyone."

Tim's head dropped again.

"Mr. Secretary?" Loren asked, addressing the person who might be slightly sympathetic.

"Yes, Admiral McGee?"

"May I speak to my son, in private, please?"

"Of course," the SecNav said before Orlen could refuse.

The others left the room, leaving father and son alone.

"Tim...what were you thinking?" Loren asked, his fear making him angry.

Tim wouldn't look up.

"I can't tell you, Dad."

"Why not? Did someone make you?"

"No."

"Tim, please, tell me. This is really serious. This isn't a game. The DoD is over the entire armed forces of the United States! What were you thinking?"

"What's going to happen, Dad?" Tim asked, his eyes still staring at his hands.

"I don't know, Tim. I really don't know."

"I didn't know this would happen. I didn't think it would be so...serious."

"What did you think it would be?"

Tim shrugged.

"Tim, you can't just shrug here. This is..."

"I know! I know it's bad! Okay, Dad? I know! They came to the house and they put the handcuffs and that...that Mr. Orlen said that I was in a lot of trouble...and that...that if you were a part of it..." Tim looked up. "I should have done it somewhere else! I didn't think they would even _consider_ the possibility of you being involved! I just..."

"What, Tim?"

For the first time since his son had been about eight years old, Tim's eyes filled with tears.

"I just wanted to...make it so that I didn't have to be in the Navy!" Tim started to cry and looked down at his lap.

If someone had let a grenade explode in his face, Loren couldn't have been any more shocked...and pained...by what his son had just said to him.

"They wouldn't...want me if I had done something bad. I was never going to do anything else. Just go in and let them see me there! I didn't...I didn't think that..."

Loren didn't know what to say. He had known that Tim wasn't looking forward to going, but he hadn't either when he was young and he'd ended up loving it.

"You hate me. I know."

That finally got him to speak.

"No...Tim...I don't know how to...feel about this...but I don't hate you. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know!"

"If you want to do the trial, we might be able to keep anything from happening to you."

"Maybe...but...but that would mean that everyone would hear about it. They want me to work for them. That wouldn't be prison. Maybe it would be good, Dad."

"Tim, are you saying that's what you want to do?"

To his surprise, Tim suddenly straightened up and looked him in the eye. It was the first time in years, only Loren had never realized it until now. How had he missed the number of times Tim had avoided meeting his eyes? How had he not realized that his only son had been so miserable...and that desperate?

"Dad...this was a choice I made. I thought I'd...I'd thought it through, but I didn't realize. I'm not going to drag our name through the mud because I was stupid. Working for DoD...it's not what I'd...wanted to do, but it's something, and maybe I'll enjoy it. Maybe this will be a good thing. So...I'm going to choose to...work for them...and see how it goes."

"Tim, if it doesn't go well...I don't know if I'll be able to do anything for you."

Tim gave a shaky smile.

"Dad, I didn't expect you to. I knew you'd find out about it and I figured you'd be upset. I didn't think you'd do anything else."

Loren hadn't hugged Tim, again, in years. He wasn't that kind of person. Tim had, in reaction, done the same. They probably hadn't had _any_ physical contact since they had moved here. Now, in the face of what was coming, Loren couldn't let that continue. He stood up and Tim followed suit...and then, he hugged his son. Tim's arms didn't move at first but then, he hugged Loren back. After a few seconds, he pulled back and looked at Tim directly.

"Tim, you may not believe this, but I would do anything for you. If you wanted to fight it, I would be right beside you. We give ourselves to the Navy, but we never forget family."

"I'm not forgetting family, either."

"This is what you want? There's no going back once you say yes."

"Yes," Tim said.

"Okay. Then...we'll call them back in."

Tim nodded and started toward the door, but Loren caught his arm and stepped close to him.

"But if you need to get out, you say the word and I do what I can," Loren said softly.

He was rewarded by a slight brightening of Tim's eyes...not _hope_, but something that let Tim square his shoulders and face what was coming.

When the four men came back into the room, Tim spoke for himself.

"Mr. Orlen, I am accepting the consequences of what I chose to do. If DoD wants me to work for them, then I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Orlen asked.

"Positive. When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. Someone will come and pick you up."

"What?" Loren asked.

"This isn't on a delayed schedule just because he's younger than some. He will start being trained tomorrow."

"It's okay, Dad," Tim said, looking more and more confident as the reality of what was happening settled in. "Tomorrow, then. What time?"

"Someone will be there at eight...and they'll be watching your home to make sure that nothing...goes wrong."

"McGees don't break their word," Tim said, sounding much older than his seventeen years.

Loren knew that had been hammered into Tim just as it had been hammered into him. ...but he had never wanted to break his word more than at this moment. The only thing worse than this would be telling Joan.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next morning, after a sleepless, tear-filled night, Tim left their home, with only a packed bag.

That first month, he spent only two weekends at home. The rest was spent in training with DoD personnel.

And that was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tim wanted to hate everyone at the DoD, especially Mr. Orlen. He realized, rather belatedly, that Mr. Orlen's name was simply his dad's first name...messed up. ...and Mr. Orlen was the one who had dragged him into this in the first place. No need to mention that Tim had brought this on himself.

But after a few weeks of training, Tim could admit that what he was learning was fascinating and that Mr. Orlen wasn't evil. He had turned Tim over to one of the ongoing projects at DARPA, and Tim was suddenly doing more with Internet protocols and probing for weaknesses in online security than he had ever imagined in his life.

Besides, there were other people who frightened him a lot more than Mr. Orlen ever could, and dealing with Mr. Orlen meant he didn't have to see those other people.

Almost anything was worth not seeing _them_.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, this is Major Nelson," Mr. Orlen said. "He's going to be reading you into this newest project."

"He seems a little young, don't you think?"

"I'm an adult," Tim said. "I've been working for DoD for two years...sir."

Major Nelson raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"All right, son."

"My name is Tim McGee and you can call me _Tim_ or _McGee_, but I'm not your son," Tim said. Two years of being treated as an adult and seeing things most adults didn't ever see had burned away a lot of Tim's uncertainty. He had a job he hadn't asked for and he wasn't going to be treated like a child, not even when his other option had been life in prison.

"Tim is one of our top programmers and researchers, Major. He's younger than most but that doesn't remove his expertise," Mr. Orlen said quickly. "You won't find his equal."

Tim felt a little bit of grudging gratitude. Mr. Orlen gave credit where it was due at least. Major Nelson gestured and Tim followed. What came of the meeting was another project that lasted for months. Tim didn't really _mind_ the work. It was interesting, but it wasn't his choice.

But it was better than the project he was always working on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next few years, Tim became more and more distant from his family...not out of any conscious intention on either side, but because he got pulled into work so much more. After he was an adult, DARPA had essentially commandeered him almost completely. They could talk to him on the phone and by email all they wanted, but Tim was physically gone. Even when he came home on the weekends, it wasn't as though they had much time together. It took years for Joan to accept it, for her not to blame Loren for what had happened. Sarah cried herself to sleep more than a few times because her brother was gone. Whatever Tim thought about his new job, he kept it to himself. He couldn't tell them what he was doing because his work was classified.

If anything positive had come out of all the negative that had happened, Tim and his father were able to talk to each other again. They didn't talk about the really important things...because they couldn't, but they spent time talking.

Loren continued his rise up the ladder, although it meant a lot less to him than it had before. In fact, his rise was much slower than it had been. He'd been on the fast track before, but now, his heart wasn't in it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We'd like you to consider some Navy projects, Tim," Mr. Orlen said.

"I don't want to work for the Navy," Tim said. It was the one facet of bitterness he'd held on to. He didn't blame his dad. He didn't hate Mr. Orlen...and he thought about how he felt about his job as little as possible. The Navy was easy to hate, easy to blame.

"I know, but we could really use you in that area. We've had some weaknesses show up in the databases of our aircraft carriers. The more widespread the Internet becomes, the more likely it is that we'll be hacked."

"Mr. Orlen?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Will I ever be allowed to leave here?"

"And do what, Tim?"

"I don't know. Something else?"

"I don't make those decisions, Tim. You know who does."

That was the end of it. Tim suppressed a shudder and nodded. Then, he agreed to participate in a project for the Navy.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Tim was twenty-four, he finally gave up the pretense of living with his parents. He hadn't really for years, but now, it was time to really move out. He got an apartment in Silver Spring and went home to help his parents pack. His dad had been transferred.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, I don't want you to go back. Can't you quit?" Sarah asked.

"No, I can't, Sarah," Tim said. "It's my job. They need me there."

"Sarah, your mother needs you to help her finish up the boxes in your room."

"Okay, Dad." Sarah hugged Tim tightly and then left.

Tim turned back to putting some books into a box. He didn't turn around until he heard his dad sit down on his bed.

"How are things going, Tim?"

"They're fine. I'm starting some new projects."

"You don't seem happy."

Tim smiled a little. "You don't, either, and Grandpa would be so proud of you for making admiral."

"I feel like I lost something, Tim."

"What?"

"My son."

"I'm still your son, Dad. There was nothing either of us could do once I made the choice I did," Tim said.

"But I forced you into it."

"Yeah...but it's all water under the bridge," Tim said, not allowing himself to think about anything else. "I'm making good money. They're not torturing me or anything. I clock in and clock out like anyone else does."

"Do you have friends?"

"A couple. Not many...but I don't need a lot of friends. That's not for me."

"Tim..."

Tim wasn't sure he'd ever seen his dad so...uncertain and so upset without being angry about it. He got up off the floor.

"Dad, things worked out for the best. I promise. I wouldn't have been living at home normally by now anyway, and I have the kind of job security a lot of people would kill for."

His dad smiled a little but his eyes were still solemn.

"We don't need to talk about this every time I come around. You're being transferred. I have an apartment. When you guys have the time, you can come visit. Sarah is now saying that she's going to get into a college in DC and we'll see a lot of each other. Dad, there's no reason for you to feel guilty anymore. I have a job. I have a place of my own. I'm getting paid a salary. I'll probably get a great retirement package when it comes to that...better than yours," Tim said, grinning.

His father sighed and returned the grin. "Don't count on it. Military service gives back in spades."

"I'm sure it does."

Tim and his dad finished packing up in his room and then headed downstairs to help Joan and Sarah. After a couple of days, everything was packed up. Tim was headed to his apartment in Silver Spring and his family was off to another naval base.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting in a café during his lunch break, reading _The Moonstone_. He had become interested in mystery novels a few years previously and had discovered the Wilkie Collins novel last year. It was now one of his favorite books. He'd read it multiple times.

"Tim! Tim!"

He looked up and locked eyes with a dark-haired woman he didn't know at all. She smiled at him in surprise and then looked past him to someone else. Tim followed her gaze and saw a man in dress whites crossing the café toward the woman.

"Kate! I didn't see you!" the man said.

Tim flushed and looked back down to his book. How embarrassing...and what a coincidence. Who would have thought that there would be someone with his name in the same place at the same time? ...and who would have thought that having someone calling his name so eagerly would have been such a pleasure to him...and such a disappointment when he realized that it _wasn't_ his name being called? Tim swallowed and refocused on his book.

Over the next few weeks, he noticed the couple in the same café and he watched them greet each other and enjoy the time spent in each other's company. It wasn't that he was spying. He didn't try to hear their conversations. He just enjoyed watching them be happy.

Then, there was a period of time when neither was there. Tim missed seeing them but he just went back to his work. After that, there was one day when they both came and then, again, nothing for days afterward...until the woman came by herself, seeming very unhappy. Tim felt sad that this woman who had been there so happily for so long was suddenly so solemn. He looked at his book and then over at her...and he took a breath and walked over.

"Hi," he said.

She looked up at him. "Do I know you?"

"No...although you know my name."

She smiled a little. "I do? That's new one."

"I mean...you called it out once, only you were talking to someone else."

"You're still not making a lot of sense, you know," she said, her smile widening.

"Sorry...I'm usually better at talking to human beings. I guess I'm forgetting how. My name is Tim...Tim McGee."

To his surprise, her smile vanished.

"Oh, I see."

"Oh, man. I've messed it up, haven't I. I'm sorry. I should have known better than to..." Tim felt more uncertain than he'd been in a long time. He shook his head, feeling mortified. "My fault. Sorry."

He backed off and hurried out the café, although he thought he might have heard her saying his name.

He stayed away from the café for a few days, but he really liked it. It was close to where he worked and he liked the food...and he was embarrassed by how immature he'd acted. He was twenty-six and he couldn't manage to have a mature conversation with a member of the opposite sex...unless they were talking about computers.

Tim sat down in the café during his lunch break and pulled out his book. He hadn't seen the lovely woman there and that was all the better. No awkward conversation, just lunch.

That's what he thought before someone stood beside him.

"Is this seat taken?"

Tim looked up and then (to his embarrassment), he blushed.

"No. It's not."

"Good." She sat down. "I'm Kate Todd. I'm sorry that I was such a wet blanket before."

"That's okay. I generally stick my foot in my mouth. I'm really good at that," Tim said. "I have the worst timing."

Kate smiled. "My boyfriend...Tim...and I broke up...but then, he was killed. I've been trying to work through how I feel about all that."

Tim gave up any pretense of reading and groaned.

"Oh, I really _do_ have the worst timing. I'm doubly sorry."

"No. It's okay. Actually, your reaction kind of pulled me out of my funk. I think you felt worse about it than I did. Were you going to ask me out?"

"I had considered it," Tim said and he chanced a smile. "I don't know if I'd have actually got the words out or not. It might have ended up the same way...me slinking out of the place in humiliation."

"Would you like to try it now?"

"You sure you want me to? I didn't think I'd acquitted myself very well at all."

"Neither of us did. So now, we have a chance to try again...and do a better job."

"Okay." Tim took a deep breath. "Kate, would you like to go out with me?"

Kate smiled. "Okay. Sounds good."

Tim felt a surge of happiness that he hadn't felt in years. He hadn't realized that he hadn't felt it, either.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Great!"

Tim quickly made a plan of what and when and Kate agreed. It was only after he'd left the café and headed back to work that he realized Kate was probably a little older than he was and he had no idea what she did for a living or anything. Well, that was the adventure, he supposed. He hadn't had the chance to _have_ an adventure...not since he was sixteen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, you look like the cat who ate the canary," Charles said when Tim got back from lunch.

Tim sat down beside his coworker and smiled.

"I don't eat canaries. I'm sure they wouldn't taste very good. No meat on the bones."

"Ha ha. Come on, Tim. I think this is the first time you haven't looked serious coming into work. What's up?"

"We have work to do, Charles."

"Yeah, and you can work and talk. What we're doing right now doesn't take up even a quarter of your brainpower. Come on, Tim! You're a perfect enigma. It's like all you do is exist here at work and nowhere else."

"I exist other places."

"I know that! Come on. Open up a little."

Tim looked at the computer screen and then at Charles...and then back at the computer.

"I have a date," he said.

"How hard was that?"

Tim smiled. "Pretty hard...but a lot easier than getting the date in the first place."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing fancy. Dinner."

"How did you meet her?"

"At a café. She called out her boyfriend's name and it happened to be mine. She broke up with him and I moved in."

"Wow. How much time was there in between all that?"

"Weeks."

"Good."

"Now, we have work to do, Charles. I'm going to try to hack into this site. You try to keep me out. We'll see if we've plugged up the holes."

"Go for it. I'm ready."

Tim looked at Charles. "I'll bet you're not."

He dove into the hacking. This was the time that he let himself go nuts. No holding back. He did his best to get in. That's what he always did. He would try it until they'd bolstered the program so much that he couldn't get in. That was the point at which they were done. Not until then.

In five minutes, he'd got around Charles' blocks.

"Tim, we are lucky that you're not actually trying to get in to do something wrong."

Tim smiled a little and stared at the monitor again.

"You have no idea, Charles."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim met up with Kate at a restaurant in DC on a Saturday night. They sat down and ordered and then stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"I realized that I don't know anything about you except your name," Tim finally said. "So...what do you do?"

"I work for NCIS. That's..."

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I know," Tim said.

"You don't like the Navy?" Kate asked.

"Why would you say that?"

"Your eyes...they darkened for just a second when you said _Naval_, but not any other word."

"How did you notice it?"

"It's part of what I do. I was trained as a profiler."

"Oh...so I'd better be honest."

"Yes," Kate said with a smile. "What do you do that you don't like the Navy?"

"I work for DoD. DARPA."

Kate gave him a look, and Tim wondered what else he'd given away just by talking...but she didn't say anything about it. She just grinned at him and moved on.

"What do you do there?"

"A lot of classified stuff. Short form is that I'm a computer geek."

"You don't look like one."

"Thank you," Tim said with a smile. "So...are you an agent, then?"

"Very recently, yes."

"What were you before?"

"Secret Service."

Tim's eyes widened. "Wow. That's amazing."

"What did you do before the DoD?"

This time, Tim _knew_ that his face had given away how difficult a question that was. Still, he didn't want to lie. He settled for being honest without really telling anything.

"I went to high school."

"What?"

"I went to high school."

"DoD is all you've done?"

"Since high school," Tim said again, feeling his smile becoming fixed.

"So...what do you do for fun?"

"Read mystery novels."

As they continued to talk, Tim relaxed and enjoyed spending time with someone not related to work at all. It was almost a first for him.

Over the next few months, he spent time with Kate. It became a nice friendship but never anything more. For one thing, Tim never felt comfortable enough to tell her everything about himself. It was okay because Tim was happy to have a friend. He didn't need anything more than that right now...and it was good because Tim was friends with someone who was associated with the Navy. It mellowed some of his lingering bitterness.

Overall, Tim counted himself lucky to have Kate as a friend...which made it all the worse when she was killed. It was a major shock for him. He took his first day off ever just to go to her funeral. He saw NCIS people at the funeral. They all looked as shell-shocked as he was...but he didn't feel like he could talk to them. He just stared at the grave for a long time. His friend was gone, and he felt alone again.

"How did you know her?"

The voice was soft and gravelly. He looked over and saw a woman who was smiling a little. She had a tape player in her hand.

"We were friends," Tim said quietly. "Just friends...not for very long."

"I worked with her. She was one of my best friends. I really liked her."

"Me, too."

"I'm Abby."

"Tim."

She surprised him by hugging him tightly and then walking over to Kate's family and asking if they would mind if she played something for Kate. They agreed.

As she walked over to the NCIS people, Tim was startled to hear loud, raucous, jazz-type music playing. He looked after her and decided it was just something he didn't understand. Maybe it was an aspect of Kate he'd never known. He sighed and walked away by himself.

It was time to get back to work. The idyllic period in which he had a friend and a life outside his work was over, ripped violently away from him, leaving him bereft.

Two weeks after Kate died, Tim tried to find something to take the place of the world he'd touched...and he discovered it in a secondhand store.

He bought a used typewriter and started trying to fix it up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_I'll never stop," McGregor declared wildly. "You'll never stop me from taking it back!"_

"_You can't take anything back. You're powerless," he said, laughing derisively. "Everything you are, everything you have is mine."_

The phone started ringing, pulling Tim out of his typing. He looked at it and then picked up his phone, trying not to sigh.

"_Tim, we need you to come in today."_

"Why? It's my weekend off," Tim said.

"_We have a new employee joining us, and she'll be working with you. You need to get her up to speed."_

"This can't wait until Monday?"

"_No."_

"What's her name, then?"

"_Erin Kendall."_

Tim sighed. "All right. Fine. I'll be in. She there already?"

"_Yes."_

"Okay." Tim hung up without saying good-bye. He looked at what he'd been typing and then headed out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim McGee, this is Erin Kendall," Mr. Orlen said. "She's going to be working with you on the wireless military communications project."

Erin smiled and put out her hand. "Mr. McGee, I'm really excited to be working with you. I've heard a lot about what you can do and this project sounds amazing."

Tim nodded but with a lot less enthusiasm. He did shake her hand, though.

"Sure. Sounds great. This way."

They walked down the hall together, leaving Mr. Orlen behind. Tim spared a moment to think about how interesting it was that he still thought of his boss as _Mr._ Orlen...a holdover from his teenage years. It was hard to shake off the fear and anxiety that had accompanied his first appearance, even if the fear of _him_ was gone. The others, however...

"Mr. McGee?"

Tim looked over at Erin. She was probably his age, maybe slightly older.

"You don't have to be so formal with me. I'll bet we're about the same age."

"Really?" she asked. "How old are you? ...if you don't mind my asking."

"Almost thirty."

She flushed.

"What?"

"I'm actually older than you. I just turned thirty-two."

Tim grinned. "Don't worry. I won't hold it against you."

She laughed. "Thanks. I'm glad you can smile. I wasn't sure when you first came over. Actually, you look a lot younger when you smile."

Tim hitched one shoulder uncomfortably.

"There's a reason why I don't try to look young."

"How long have you worked here?"

"A while."

Her brow furrowed.

"I'm going on thirteen years."

"Whoa."

"Yeah. This is the center of operations for this project," he said as he entered his access code. "You'll get your own code on Monday. For now, I'll just give you a rundown of what we're doing so you won't be completely in the dark."

"That's nice. I hate being behind."

"Have you lived in DC long?" Tim asked as they settled in to work.

"I'm still looking for an apartment."

"Wow. You got right to work."

"Time waits for no man...or woman."

Tim smiled, relaxing as he almost never did at work. There was something about Erin. He just found her easy to talk to. After he finished giving her the rundown of the project, something made him reluctant to end their association. They were walking out of DARPA, and Tim took a breath and threw caution to the winds.

"Erin?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to get dinner? Just a bite to eat?" he asked...and then, worried that this might seem like a bad idea since he was technically over her at work. "You don't have to. It's...It's just an invitation. There's no expectation or anything."

She smiled at his awkward invitation.

"Is there something in the air in DARPA that allows you to be confident in there and not out here?"

Tim laughed a little, knowing he was blushing furiously.

"I spend most of my time in that building or others like it. Out here...things are different."

"How?"

"Just...different."

"I'd love to get dinner. I was in such a hurry to get to this appointment that I didn't have anything for lunch."

Tim smiled, feeling that all-too-familiar tension ease as Erin accepted his invitation without any outward reservation.

"Great. How do you feel about Japanese?"

"Meaning sushi?"

"Mostly, yes."

"Sure, that's fine."

"If you don't mind a little walk, there's a pretty nice place just down the block and it's right next to a Metro stop."

"Perfect," Erin said.

Tim felt a warm feeling start to spread through him. He'd never felt that before. There was just something about her. They walked together to the sushi bar, talking all the time. She talked about herself, but she also drew him out, asking lots of questions...and to his surprise, Tim found himself answering them.

"How did you get thirteen years experience when you're only thirty?" she asked.

"I was...recruited right out of high school...wasn't really given much of a choice, to be honest."

"How is that possible?" Erin asked, her brow furrowing.

"I did some things I shouldn't have done, got caught. My options were to work for them or face jail time. Seemed like the better option."

"You're working there against your will?"

"I don't think about like that, not anymore. It's just my job. I can't quit, but it's just a job."

"I can't believe it."

"Believe it. It's true...but don't worry about it. I'm not treated any differently from other employees. I get paid. I get time off. ...I just have the ultimate in job security. I toe the line."

"Or else?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, although the threat is fairly nebulous at this point," Tim said, fudging things a little. He hadn't seen them in a long time. "I don't know what they'd do, but I'm not willing to test it."

"What would you have done if you could have?"

Tim tried not to think about all his lost opportunities. For the first time that night, he looked away from her.

"Are you still hungry or are you ready to go?"

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you have done?"

Tim waved their waiter over, paid the bill and then led Erin out of the restaurant.

"Tim."

"I would have gone to college. I would have got as many degrees as I could have. I would have...been free...but I'm not, and I'm never going to be. Instead of a prison sentence..." He looked at her and smiled weakly. "...I got a lifetime of hard labor." He took a quick breath. "I drove over here. Do you need a ride anywhere?"

Erin reached out and took his hand. She squeezed it gently.

"I took the Metro. I'll see you on Monday, Tim."

"Yeah."

Tim squeezed back and then walked back to DARPA to get his car.

Somehow, the prospect of heading back to work on Monday didn't seem so dismal as it generally did.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next few months, Tim and Erin became very close. They worked together, and they started spending a lot of time outside work together as well. They just fit together so nicely. Tim had never felt this way about anyone...as if he could trust her with anything and the only problem was that he worried about it ending...like it had with Kate.

She had opened up to him about some of the events in her own life...for instance, the last place she'd lived before transferring to DARPA, she'd witnessed a murder but never could get anyone to believe her. In the end, she'd felt as though someone was watching her in her old apartment and she had left, but the conviction that she had seen someone get killed had not faded.

In fact, one day, as they talked, Tim started asking her questions about it, about what she had seen and where and why no one would have found the body.

"It was a sailor and I called NCIS, but...I don't know. I guess they just didn't see any reason to believe a computer geek like me."

"I would have believed you," Tim said with conviction. "If I was working there, I'd believe you."

She laughed and patted his cheek.

"You don't have to say that, Tim. It's okay."

"No...let's go back there," Tim said, suddenly.

"Why?"

"To see it. Maybe we'll see something and we can find evidence...or something."

"I don't know, Tim. I left that stuff behind."

"I'll be with you. Do you really think that the killer would be hanging around the apartment building just in case you happened to come back?"

"No...No, I don't. I _would_ like to know what happened, but..."

"Okay, then. Let's go!"

Erin let Tim lead her to her former residence. They looked around and Tim asked her about it.

"That's the window, there," she said, pointing.

A man came out of the door and looked at them curiously.

"Hi, Jeremy," Erin said.

"Oh, yeah. Erin. You coming back?" he asked.

"No. Just bringing my friend over to show him where I used to live...you know...before I saw that murder."

"Right."

"Jeremy was skeptical," Erin said.

Tim bristled a little. "If she said she saw it, then she saw it."

"Okay, but no one ever went anywhere with it."

"Maybe we will now," Tim said.

"Tim, it's okay," Erin said. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

Tim nodded but he didn't look away from Jeremy until it became uncomfortable to stare at him.

"Come on, Tim. It's not that important."

"You wouldn't lie about something like that, Erin. I just don't like it when people question...just because it doesn't fit in with what they think things should be."

She put her arm around him and led him away.

"There was no evidence, Tim, and I'd had some wine that night. It just didn't look good. So they didn't investigate."

"That was wrong."

Erin kissed Tim on the cheek.

"With you watching out for me, I'll be fine, Tim," she said.

"I'll keep my eyes peeled," Tim said.

They headed back to Erin's apartment. Tim kissed her good night and went back home. They didn't talk about it again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

The phone started ringing at about two in the morning. Tim fumbled for the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"_Tim! Someone's trying to get into my apartment."_

"Erin?"

"_I locked the doors, but..."_

"Erin, call the police. Don't call me."

Then, she screamed and dropped the phone.

"Erin! Erin!"

Tim put her on hold, called the police and sent them to her home...and then, he got back on and called her name, over and over.

There was no answer. He hurried over to her apartment as soon as he could...but it was too late. When he got there, the police were there...and Erin was dead.

They tried to keep him out, but he refused to be held back. He forced his way into her apartment, and saw her...dead. Just right there on the floor. Not moving. For a long moment, he couldn't do anything but stare.

"Mr. McGee, do you know if she had any enemies?"

Tim looked at the detective and a feeling of helpless anger burned in him.

"Yes. She did...because no one believed her...when she reported witnessing a murder."

"Excuse me?"

"She witnessed a murder!" Tim shouted. "She reported it to you! She reported it to NCIS! No one believed her! ...and now, she's dead! Congratulations! Tell _that _to NCIS. They're responsible for her being dead now. If they had investigated when she reported that she saw a sailor being killed, she'd be alive right now!"

Tim turned away and slammed his hand on the wall.

"Mr. McGee, come outside. You've had a terrible shock and it's expected that you'd be upset."

Tim let himself be herded out of the room and out to the street. They talked to him, got a statement from him, but all he could think was that NCIS had done nothing and the woman he had begun to love was dead.

For the next few days, he felt like he was in a haze until he was at work and it suddenly dawned on him that he could look up the phone numbers for the NCIS people and tell them what they had done. The Navy. Nothing but pain came from them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat in front of his typewriter, staring at it. It was nearly midnight. He didn't want to _talk_ to anyone at NCIS. He couldn't see how that would help. He just wanted them to know what they'd done. He dialed. What did he have to lose? His job? He laughed painfully at the thought.

"_You've reached Special Agent Gibbs. Please leave a message."_

"NCIS Special Agent Gibbs, I just wanted you to know that you and, by extension, everyone at NCIS are responsible for a murder. Erin Kendall is dead because you wouldn't listen to her when she reported the murder of a sailor. She told you and you ignored her. Just like the Navy. You decide what reality has to be and then refuse to accept anything outside it. And now she's dead. There's nothing you can do about it, but _I_ want you to know that I blame you for her death. It is _your_ fault that Erin is dead, that someone killed her. That's all I have to say."

Tim hung up and swallowed his tears. NCIS only seemed to exist to cause him pain. It introduced people into his life and then took them away.

Instead of going to bed, he started writing. He wasn't writing his novel. He felt like there was nothing he could possibly add to it. Erin had been helping him with it.

He just started a stream of consciousness...and followed that stream for the rest of the night.

...and for the first time in thirteen years, he didn't go to work the next morning, nor did he tell anyone that he wasn't going to be there.

He just didn't care.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs noticed the blinking light on his phone when he got to his desk and he frowned. He hated it when he had messages first thing in the morning. Still, he listened to the message...and his frown deepened.

Erin Kendall. Who was that? ...and who had left this message?

He had been accused of not doing his job...and Gibbs didn't like that idea. It was an accusation that needed to be answered. He made a note to get Abby to trace the message. Whoever had left the message had a lot of explaining to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"This is a message from a man full of grief and pain, Jethro," Ducky said after listening to the voice mail a few times. "Yes, there is anger, but it is not really about the anger for him. It is much more about the loss. This woman was apparently very important to him and he has lost her in a violent manner. So he has chosen to react by accusing someone else, in this case, us, of being complicit in her death, directly or indirectly."

"Erin Kendall reported witnessing a murder last year, Boss," Tony said, reading from his screen. "Metro looked into it, dismissed it for lack of any evidence. Apparently, Agent Lovitz' team was called in, but they concurred with Metro. That's all there is...until this guy saying that her death is our fault."

"And she _is _dead?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah. Four days ago. Metro got a call from someone and responded, but they were too late. She was dead when they got there. Strangled."

"So either he is correct and is speaking from some position of knowledge," Ducky said, "or he is simply speaking from his pain and has no other outlet."

"Do you think he could be a danger to us?" Ziva asked. "There have been other instances of a misplaced need for revenge."

"I didn't detect any desire for retribution," Ducky said. "He said himself that he wanted you to know, not that he wanted revenge. Given the nature of the message, I think he is the type who _would_ confront if he had any real desire for violence. He doesn't. He even chose to leave the message late at night when it would be unlikely for anyone to be around. He doesn't want a confrontation. He just wanted to tell us what he felt."

"As soon as Abby figures out who he is, he's going to _get_ a confrontation," Gibbs said. "If there's a case here, then we need to look into it."

"What about those things he said about the Navy?" Michelle Lee asked, a bit hesitant because of her probie status. "Do you think that he's a former Navy guy himself?"

"I don't know," Ducky said. "Clearly, that is a point of bitterness. The phrasing implies a long-standing issue, some experience with the Navy."

"He is very young," Ziva said. "His voice, his words. Whatever the bitterness, he has not experienced loss very much."

"Not everyone does, my dear...even in a long life."

Ziva just shrugged. She still was a bit of an outsider here. No one had been quick to open their arms to her. Only Ducky had been instantly welcoming, although the others were starting to mellow a bit.

"_Gibbs! I've found him! ...and you're not going to believe who he is."_

Gibbs turned around and looked at the plasma where Abby's excited face was beaming down on them all.

"Who is he, Abbs?"

A picture came up on the screen alongside Abby's animated image.

"_His name is Timothy McGee and he works for DARPA, part of the DoD. ...but that's the same place this Erin Kendall worked. His phone number isn't listed and is blocked for ordinary mortals, but I got through."_

"Do you have an address?"

"_Well, DARPA is in Arlington."_

"His _home_ address, Abbs."

"_Sure. He lives in Silver Spring. And you _so_ owe me a Caf-Pow! for this. It was hard to find all of it. He must be a pretty important guy with all the protections in place."_

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Tony, Ziva, with me. Lee, get with Lovitz and see what they have in their records."

Lee nodded, looking more than a little relieved. She'd been transferred to the team from Legal and she wasn't confident in actual field work.

"Where to first, Boss?" Tony asked. "Home or work?"

"Home."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had ignored four phone calls from Mr. Orlen. Four. He'd never even ignored _one_ before. It was something that wouldn't last. He'd have to go back to work tomorrow. He just needed to wallow for a little while. So much for human connections. He should have known better. Kate's death should have been his warning. His life sentence didn't allow for real friendships. He wasn't meant to have them. He was meant to work and pay the price for his teenage folly. He'd been warned before...

There was a loud knock on his door, and Tim lay there listening to it for a few seconds...until there was a voice accompanying it.

"Mr. McGee! NCIS! Open up!"

Tim considered _not_ listening to the voice. He couldn't imagine that it would lead to anything positive, but he finally got off his bed and walked to the door. He looked through the peephole and then opened the door without removing the chain lock.

"What do you want?" he asked through the narrow opening.

"You're Timothy McGee?" the man asked. He was older than Tim had expected, but his gaze was direct and piercing.

"Yes. What do you want?"

"NCIS. You called and left a message."

"So?"

"So we need to ask you about it. Open the door."

Tim smiled grimly. "The door _is_ open. It's just not open all the way. Who are you?"

"Special Agent Gibbs." The man lifted his badge.

"And who's with you?"

"Agent DiNozzo and Officer David."

"Officer? From Metro?"

"Mossad Liaison. Open the door."

Tim could hear that this was not the time to be belligerent. It went against his nature anyway. He just didn't care about being the nice guy right now. He closed the door, removed the chain and opened it again.

"Come in, but I don't have much to say. What I had to say, I said."

They came inside, but Tim didn't offer them a seat. There weren't many in here anyway. A couple of stools at the bar, his computer chair and his writing chair. The apartment was small. He let them in, closed the door behind them, and then turned around and waited.

"But if you're going to accuse NCIS of not doing its job, you'd better have more than just accusations," Gibbs said.

"I don't have to have anything," Tim shot back. "I looked at the report from Metro. I looked at the report from NCIS. Both of you just ignored what Erin saw. _Both_ of you! You didn't have to sit there on the phone, listening to her screaming for help. _You_ didn't have to stand there and see her body on the floor, knowing that you'd lost the one beautiful thing in your life. You just went on with things and didn't even _know_! I..." Tim shook his head. "I was going to say that I'm sorry, but I'm not. If you feel even a fraction of what I feel...but there's no way you could. You Navy people are all alike."

"You saw the NCIS report?" the younger man asked. "How?"

"I hacked into the NCIS database and read it."

"That is illegal," the Mossad officer said.

Tim shrugged. "Yeah? So? What do you think will happen if you report that? I'll get fired? It's not going to happen. Why don't you try it? I'll even dial Mr. Orlen's number if you'd like."

"Why are you so sure that she was killed because of the murder she witnessed?" Gibbs asked, sternly.

Tim found that, even in his anger and grief, Gibbs was very intimidating. It took all of his experience in dealing with the ones who actually scared him to keep him from shrinking away and stammering.

"Because she was killed only a few days after we were talking about it," Tim said. "That's quite a coincidence, don't you think? No sign of robbery, and she was awake when he was coming in...because she called me."

"Home invasions sometimes happen."

"But nothing was taken!" Tim said. "Home invasions are either to steal or to attack, but when someone knows that it's coming...why would they take the chance?"

"But if you two were just talking about it to each other..."

Tim looked the NCIS agents and his mind started working, running through everything that had been said.

"...and we...told it to..."

It felt like a fire had started burning in his brain. He knew who had killed Erin. He knew it and that man wasn't going to get away with it. He was between the agents and his door. Infuriated, he grabbed his car keys from the counter, turned and ran out of his apartment, intent only on getting to that man, the one person who had known they were talking about it. He heard the NCIS agents call from behind him, but that only made him move faster. They might try to stop him. And they wouldn't stop him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's precipitous departure took everyone by surprise. It was only when the door slammed behind him that they realized he was running.

Gibbs and Ziva leapt into action first, with Tony only a couple of seconds behind. They got to the exit just as Tim was getting into his car.

"Mr. McGee! Stop!" Gibbs shouted. His gun was drawn, but he didn't lift it at all.

"Where is he going?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs just ran to their car and got in. Tony and Ziva got in just before Gibbs sped off in pursuit.

"Where is he going?" Ziva asked again.

"He's not a suspect. He was on the phone calling Metro when she was killed," Tony said.

"He thinks he know who killed Erin Kendall," Gibbs said. "Whoever it is."

"And what is he going to do?" Ziva asked. "Kill him himself?"

"Either that or confront him," Gibbs said. "Don't know him well enough to know what he'd do."

"Good thing he wasn't armed," Tony said.

"Unless the other man has a gun, I think that he will not _need_ a gun," Ziva said.

They lost track of Tim and had to call Abby to track him down. It took her some time, but she was able to give an address.

"_Gibbs, that's the address of the place that Erin Kendall lived when she reported the murder."_

"Understood." Gibbs hung up and then hurried to the apartment complex. Tim's car was there, the driver's door open. Gibbs pulled to a quick stop and they ran out of the car into the building. As soon as they stepped through the door, they heard the sounds of a struggle and followed them.

What they saw was Tim, his arm pressing against the neck of another man, holding him tightly against the wall. He was clearly infuriated, and the man's movements were becoming panicked.

"...were the one who was there when we were talking about it! You're the only one who knew we had been thinking about that murder," Tim said, his voice choked with emotion. "Was it because of money? Was it something else? You killed Erin! You killed her!"

"Mr. McGee, stop!" Gibbs said, now raising his gun.

"Why should I?" Tim asked, not looking away from his target. He pressed his arm more tightly against his neck, and the man made a choking sound. "What has _he_ done to deserve it? He killed her! I'll bet he killed that sailor, too! I'll bet if I searched through your stuff, I'd find whatever is left of the sailor you killed! Just like you killed Erin!"

"McGee, stand down!"

"I have no reason to listen to you," Tim said. "You ignored _her_ before. I can ignore _you_ now!"

"Do you think that Erin Kendall would want you to do this?"

That was it. To Gibbs' relief, Tim backed off. He let go and moved back. The man slid down the wall, rubbing his throat and gasping for air.

"Crazy little..." he muttered.

"You're lucky you're still breathing," Tim said furiously. "If you want to stay that way, I'd recommend that you stop talking. ...or I'll stop you myself."

"Mr. McGee, would you step outside with Agent DiNozzo, please?" Gibbs asked. He could see Tim's anguish was doing a lot of the talking for him right now and he was trying to respect that, but at the same time, he didn't want to deal with all the retorts Tim would likely make to whatever this man said.

Tim didn't answer, but he followed Tony out. Gibbs focused on the twitchy man in front him. He looked extremely nervous...more than he should considering the danger was now over.

"What is your name?" Ziva asked.

"Jeremy Pryor."

"We need you to come with us to NCIS," Gibbs said.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, but you've been accused of murder. That has to be dealt with."

"What about that psycho?" Jeremy asked.

"We'll deal with that, too."

"I have to come with you?"

"We _could_ arrest you if you would prefer it," Ziva said seriously.

"No. That's okay."

Jeremy's behavior now did more to convince Gibbs that there was something going on than anything Tim had said. He was ready to run. Gibbs gave Ziva a look. She nodded and followed him out. When they got out to the sidewalk, Gibbs saw Tony standing guard over Tim who was standing, almost docilely, leaning against his car.

In contrast, Jeremy got more and more twitchy. Just before Gibbs could reach out and open the car door, Jeremy suddenly bolted.

"Ziva!"

She was on it almost before he said her name...and took Jeremy down before he'd gone twenty steps. Gibbs ran over and pulled Jeremy's hands behind his back.

"_Now_, you're under arrest," Gibbs said, roughly cuffing him.

Ziva pulled Jeremy up, reciting his Miranda rights, and pushed him back to the car. Gibbs walked over to where Tony had been holding Tim back from giving chase.

"You going to let him go?" Tim asked, bitterly.

"No. He's obviously guilty of _something_...and since he chose to try to run, we'll have an easy time of it, getting an authorization."

"He killed her," Tim said, meeting Gibbs' eyes directly. "He killed Erin."

"Maybe he did...but we'll find out. Now, what are we going to do about _you_?"

"What _about _me?"

"You have to make a statement and you may have some trouble since you assaulted our suspect."

"Did I?" Tim asked. "Do whatever you want. I don't care."

"Because you don't think anything will come of it or because you don't care?"

Tim shrugged and broke eye contact. There wasn't much anger left...or else he'd got a better handle on his emotions and didn't want to express them to a bunch of strangers. Either was possible.

"Tony, drive him back to NCIS. Ziva and I will take Mr. Pryor."

"Sure, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony looked over at Tim as they headed over. Tim made no effort to speak at first and it gave Tony a chance to evaluate him. He was younger than he had seemed at first glance...and he seemed familiar for some reason. Tony couldn't place him, but he would swear that he'd seen Tim somewhere before.

"You ever been to NCIS before?"

"No."

"I don't see you as being into the club scene."

"I'm not."

The clipped answers didn't deter Tony, however. He really wanted to know where he'd seen Tim before.

"Do you play sports?"

"No."

"Have you ever been to Baltimore?"

"Not anyplace you would have been. Why?"

"I think I've seen you before. I'm just trying to figure out where."

"You have."

The light turned red and Tony slowed the car to a stop.

"Where?"

"At Kate's funeral."

"You knew Kate?"

Tim nodded without looking at Tony. "We were friends for a few months before she died. ...and now, NCIS has taken someone else I cared for away. It seems to be something you're good at."

"We didn't kill Kate," Tony said more harshly than he'd intended.

"Maybe not," Tim said in the same dull tone. "But it was because she worked for NCIS that she died."

"What's this resentment you have for the Navy?"

"Nothing...or at least nothing that's any of your business. My personal life doesn't matter, and I have no interest in sharing. You're taking me to NCIS to make a statement about that lowlife who killed Erin...and possibly about my assault on him, not that anything will come of that."

"Why are you so confident about that? I'm not saying I blame you for waling on the guy, but I'd think that you'd be at least a little concerned."

"That's because you don't know who I am, Agent DiNozzo."

"You're _that_ important?"

A strained smile crossed Tim's face as he looked at Tony.

"I've been working for DARPA since I was seventeen. You figure it out." His eyes flicked away and then back. "The light's green."

Tony looked and started the car forward. There was silence for a while longer. Then, suddenly, Tim sighed.

"If it makes you feel any better, that wasn't what I was thinking when I attacked him."

"What _were_ you thinking, then?"

"I was thinking...that he killed the woman I loved and no matter how much I hurt him, it could never equal how much he hurt me."

Tony nodded, hearing the pain in Tim's words, and they were both silent until they got to NCIS.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Duck, I'd like you to talk to Timothy McGee," Gibbs said.

"About what?"

"About what happened...about who he is. Tony said he's not very open to questions, but you might be able to get through."

"Why, Jethro?" Ducky asked. "I don't mind doing it, but if he's willing to give a statement, then, what is it that you're wanting?"

"To understand him. I want to know who he is and, for whatever reason, he doesn't trust us, just by virtue of our being affiliated with the Navy."

"I am also affiliated with the Navy, Jethro."

Gibbs grinned. "But you don't sound like you are."

"Ah, trying to keep him off balance?"

"Something like that."

"I'll do my best. Has he given his statement yet?"

"No. He's in the conference room."

"He'll be impatient, if your description is accurate."

"Why don't you take it?"

"Very well. I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask."

Ducky nodded and walked up to the conference room. When he opened the door, Tim was sitting at the table, not moving. He wasn't nervous at all, it seemed. Actually, in the moment before Tim noticed that he was no longer alone in the room, he looked young...young and in pain. His appearance tracked with the message he had left on Gibbs' voice mail. Then, he looked at Ducky and everything changed. He stiffened, took a breath and looked more wary than anything, his expression becoming mostly empty.

"Good afternoon," Ducky said.

As Gibbs had expected, his accent took Tim by surprise and momentarily disarmed him.

"Who are you?" Tim asked. There was only a hint of belligerence in his tone.

"My name is Donald Mallard, although most people here call me Ducky. I'm here to take your statement."

"Why you?" Tim asked. "Why not one of the agents?"

Ducky smiled. "What makes you think I'm _not_ an agent?"

Tim looked irritated at the question.

"For one thing, you're too old. For another, you didn't call yourself an agent, like the others did. For another...you're British."

"Scottish, but I've lived here for many years." Ducky decided that trying to pretend this was normal wouldn't work. Tim was not uninformed, and trying to pull the wool over his eyes would be an insult which would likely result in his clamming up. "However, you're correct. I'm _not_ an agent. I'm actually an ME."

"A medical examiner? The guy who works on the dead bodies? Why in the world are _you_ taking my statement? I didn't kill anyone...even if the guy deserved it."

"I'm also trained as a forensic psychologist."

"Okay?"

"Jethro is trying to understand you and he thinks that you'll be more willing to talk to me than you would to the others."

"It's not any of his business," Tim said with more irritation. "I'm not part of the _freak_ show at the circus."

Ducky smiled. "I should say not. However, Jethro tries to understand those who come into his sphere. In a case like this, he chose to call on someone who might be more likely to get somewhere."

"Well, sorry to disappoint him, but I'm not interested in displaying my life to strangers. I'm only here to make sure that the man who killed Erin gets what he deserves."

"That's understandable. We'll just focus on taking your statement."

"You're really going to do it?" Tim asked.

"I was asked to do so. I'm doing what was requested of me."

"All right. What do you need to know?" he asked, his expression becoming a bit more open.

"This might be painful for you to think about, but could you tell me how you met Erin Kendall and what your relationship was?"

Tim nodded, but his eyes darkened.

"She was transferred to the project I was heading up at DARPA. It's classified," he said quickly. "Most of what I work on is. You'll have to get permission from DoD to know what I'm working on."

"So noted," Ducky said.

"I liked her. I asked her out...and we started dating. We worked together and spent a lot of time together. In and out of work. I would call her my girlfriend."

"How did it come about that you knew the man who killed her?"

That question had the power to give Tim what seemed like a physical pain. He was absolutely still for a moment and then he sucked in a deep breath and looked stricken.

"Mr. McGee, are you all right? What's wrong?"

For a moment, tears were in Tim's eyes, but then he seemed to steel himself to speak.

"I knew about it...because...we were talking and she explained that no one had believed her. I convinced Erin to take me to her old apartment and show me what she had seen. _I_ took her back there and _I_ am the one who made sure Jeremy knew that someone was thinking about it." He swallowed again and stared at the table. "I set her up like a lamb going to the slaughter. He would never have known...if it weren't for me." He swore softly. "It's my fault."

"No, Mr. McGee, it's not. No matter what, it is still that man who killed her, not you."

Tim was silent for a few seconds.

"I can't decide if I hate NCIS or myself more," Tim said softly. "What else do you need to know?"

"Why are you so sure it was Jeremy Pryor?"

"Because no one else could have known," Tim said, his voice sounding numb, still staring blankly at the table. "We talked about it only with each other...at her old apartment building. No one else. I spouted off when he was skeptical. I said that we'd start looking into it again. That's the only time we talked about it. What other person would have been hanging around just in case she came back? He probably didn't do anything about it before because there was no investigation. Maybe she would have been fine if I hadn't started talking." Tim put his hands on either side of his head. "God forgive me, I put her in the path of a killer."

Ducky reached out for a moment, but Tim leaned back, away from him. He met Ducky's gaze.

"Dr. Mallard, who is more to blame here? Me for putting her there? Or NCIS for ignoring her in the first place?"

"What about Jeremy Pryor who is the alleged killer?"

Tim managed a weak smile. "That goes without saying, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps, but I think you should focus more on him rather than on others who didn't have anything to do with her death...and that includes you."

Tim laughed a little. His expression was more open than it had been.

"Was there anything else, Dr. Mallard?" he asked softly.

"Why don't we get the dates and times out of the way?"

"Sure."

As they spoke, Ducky felt a rush of pity for Tim and the realization he had made. Hopefully, he could find a way to adjust to the loss.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Boss, Lee got the search authorization," Tony said. "Can we go and search his place now?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Ziva, Tony..."

"Agent Gibbs!"

Gibbs turned. "Yes, Director?"

Jenny gave a faint smile. "I need you to come to my office. There is someone from DoD needing to speak with you."

"Would his name happen to be Orlen?"

"Yes, it would."

Gibbs sighed. "Tony, Ziva...go. Don't miss anything."

"No way, Boss. Wouldn't dream of it."

"If you find something, let me know."

"Will do. Enjoy your meeting."

Gibbs glared at Tony and then headed up the stairs. He didn't get much chance to speak. The DoD representative confronted him as soon as he stepped into the office.

"Where is Tim McGee?"

"Agent Gibbs, this is Philip Orlen, from DoD."

"Nice to meet you," Gibbs said mildly.

"I have been trying to reach Tim all day and then I find out that he's being held here, being questioned," Orlen began.

"He's giving a statement. He's not under arrest," Gibbs said.

"A statement? About what?"

"The murder of Erin Kendall. She worked for you, too, I understand. I hope that she matters to you as much as Tim does."

Maybe Mr. Orlen detected Gibbs' irritation because he tamed his belligerence.

"Of course. She was a valuable employee. Tim liked working with her, and I know they'd become close."

"Oh? Does he confide in you?" Gibbs asked.

"No. What can Tim contribute to your investigation?"

"He figured out who did it, led us to the right guy...and opened up an older case of a sailor going UA, we think."

"Ah."

"There's also an issue of him assaulting our suspect."

"What will you be doing about that?"

"It depends. The suspect has the option of pressing charges, but I think he's more worried about his own status right now."

"Tim will not be going to jail," Mr. Orlen said. "Should your suspect think about pressing charges, we'll have a talk with him."

"Legally?" Gibbs asked.

"His lawyer will be present."

That confirmed Tim's idea that he didn't have anything to worry about with regards to his assault.

"I see."

"Well, when will you be done with him?"

"We can check on him right now."

"Good."

Gibbs led Mr. Orlen to the conference room. He had acquiesced mostly because he wanted to see how the two men would interact with each other, given Tim's statements and Mr. Orlen's confidence.

Gibbs opened the door. Tim looked up and looked at Gibbs...but his gaze almost instantly slid past him and to Mr. Orlen. Whatever life had been in his eyes was gone. He noticeably stiffened.

"Tim, you didn't answer your phone."

"I know," Tim said with the same clipped tone he had used to talk to them before.

"I went to your apartment and it was empty. I was worried that something had happened."

"Something _did_ happen. Erin died."

"To you."

Tim smiled slightly. "That _did_ happen to me."

Mr. Orlen nodded and while there was no gentleness, he did acknowledge what Tim said.

"The work day is nearly over; so there's little point in your coming in now. How will you be for tomorrow?"

"That's fine," Tim said, although his tone merely one of resignation.

"Now, see here," Ducky said indignantly. "This man has lost someone very important to him. Surely, he could have some time off!"

"No, I can't, Dr. Mallard," Tim said. "The work I do is important. The project needs to be completed. Don't get involved in something you don't understand."

"What would I _ever_ do then, Mr. McGee?" Ducky said.

There was a small smile which was quickly wiped away. Tim got up.

"I drove my own car, Mr. Orlen," Tim said.

"That's fine. I'll walk out with you."

"We were just finishing up," Tim said. "Dr. Mallard, it was about two in the morning when Erin called me. I put her on hold and called the police after I heard her scream. I never could get her to say anything else. I drove over as quickly as I could, but she was dead when I got there."

Ducky stood up.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. McGee."

"Me, too," Tim said and walked out with Mr. Orlen.

After the door closed, Gibbs looked at Ducky and raised an eyebrow. Ducky shrugged and sighed.

"He told me very little about himself, but I would wager you saw the way he instantly deferred to Mr. Orlen when he came in?"

"Of course."

"That man has some control over Mr. McGee. It is not a simple control, either, because I sensed some respect on both sides. Whatever it is that brought him to DARPA, I would bet dimes for dollars that Mr. Orlen was instrumental in it."

"Did he say anything to you outside of the statement?"

"He was devastated to realize that it was his insistence in revisiting the murder she had reported which made Jeremy Pryor aware of her again."

"Are you sure that it was him?"

"Based on what Mr. McGee said, yes. They went to her old apartment building and talked, Mr. McGee defended Erin Kendall's belief rather vehemently. I think that he more than likely spooked our suspect."

"So he's blaming himself, then."

"And us. He has not let go of his bitterness that NCIS did not investigate, initially."

Gibbs' phone rang.

"What is it, DiNozzo?" he asked.

"_We found him, Boss."_

"Who?"

"_A dead sailor."_

"Where?"

"_In Pryor's chest freezer...under a layer of food. I don't think I could eat frozen food that was stored on top of a dead body."_

"Anything else?"

"_Yeah. Ziva found a little store of cash under Pryor's mattress."_

"How much?"

"_Quite a bit, but we haven't counted it yet."_

"Okay. We'll be over there."

Gibbs hung up.

"Well?"

"We've got a body. A sailor."

"So she was correct."

"It's looking that way."

Ducky nodded. "What are you going to do about Timothy McGee?"

"Officially?"

"Yes."

"Nothing."

"Unofficially?"

"I want to know who he is."

"Just be careful. I don't know that he will be grateful for the attention."

Gibbs nodded. He knew that Ducky was trying to rein him in a bit, but there was something about Tim that made him need to know more...especially after seeing him with Mr. Orlen.

For now, however, they had a murder to investigate...and solving one looked like it would solve two.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Mr. Orlen walked with Tim to his car. Tim didn't bother protesting.

"You can't just not show up, Tim," Mr. Orlen said.

"Looks like I can," Tim said. "I didn't show up today."

"I know, and you can't do that again. You get time off like anyone else, and if you had at least answered one of the calls..."

"I didn't feel like answering the phone, Mr. Orlen," Tim said.

"I realize that."

"Will you ever not have control over me?" Tim asked, the first time he had in a long time.

"That's not for me to say, Tim."

"Who should be saying it, then?"

"You know who would be saying it, and you know you don't want that."

Tim swallowed at the reminder which managed to cut through his grief.

They reached the car. Tim stared at his reflection in the window. Erin had given him a glimpse of happiness and freedom. She had shown him that maybe he could reach for something more. ...but it was all a lie. He was still as confined as he had always been...only now, he was more aware of it. He sighed.

"There's no reason for you to come in tomorrow, Tim," Mr. Orlen said suddenly.

"What?"

"The project can do without you for a day or two. Plan on coming back on Monday. That will be good enough."

Tim looked at Mr. Orlen. His voice hadn't changed. His stance hadn't changed. He didn't do anything but nod and then walk away. Tim watched him go. Whether he wanted to go to work or not, he wouldn't. Not until Monday.

Tim got into his car and drove home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"So...Mr. Pryor, would you like to explain yourself?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know that guy! Okay? I don't know him!"

"Which guy?" Gibbs asked. He pulled out Tim's photo. "This guy?" ...and a photo of the dead sailor, identified as Keith Dillon. "Or this one that we found in your freezer? ...or are you going to pretend that you'd never noticed him in there?"

Jeremy swallowed.

"You killed a sailor...and you killed an employee of DoD to cover it up. You are in a _lot_ of trouble here, Jeremy."

Jeremy said nothing.

"We found quite a bit of cash in your apartment, a dead body, a gun that is _not_ registered to you and a convenient length of cord which is currently being tested for DNA that will match Erin Kendall. You have your lawyer here. What do _you_ think, Mr. Johnson? Do you have a good defense in place?"

"What if we save the cost of a trial?"

"That's not my department," Gibbs said. "We'll forward all our information to JAG, and you'll have to talk with them."

"What if I can tell you something you _don't_ know about him?"

"What's that?"

"What if I can tell you that he's not a sailor."

"Yes, he is. He's on the roster and worked for people who have identified him," Gibbs said, standing up. "You'll have to do better than that."

"Okay. He's not _just_ a sailor! He was renting that apartment as a guy named Thorne and that gun was _his_! I found it in his apartment!"

Gibbs sat back down. "You're not getting off for two murders."

"You tell JAG that I cooperated," Jeremy said.

"You cooperate and I'll be sure to tell them," Gibbs said. "Talk."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim let himself fall onto his bed and stare at the ceiling. He didn't want to deal with this by himself. There was nothing anyone could do to make this better, but he wanted to have someone who would help him, be there for him...just to let him wallow a bit.

He picked up his phone and called his sister.

"_Hey, Tim! I'm surprised. Why aren't you doing anything with Erin?"_

"She's dead, Sarah."

"_What? Oh, no, Tim! What happened?"_

"She was murdered, a few days ago."

"_And you didn't tell anyone until now? Tim, why?"_

"Just...didn't think about it. I was working."

"_Tim! You shouldn't be working."_

"I'm not now. Not until next week."

"_You don't have anything you're doing?"_

"Not right now."

"_Do you want company?"_

"Yes...yeah, I do, Sarah. Erin's dead."

"_I'll be over in a jiffy. Don't go anywhere!"_

"Okay." Tim hung up and tossed his phone to the side. He stared at the ceiling until there was a knock on the door. He pulled himself to his feet and trudged to the door. He didn't get a chance to say anything before Sarah hurried in and hugged him tightly.

"Oh, Tim. That's so awful! Have you told Mom and Dad?"

"No. I haven't told anyone," Tim whispered.

"Who else would you tell?" Sarah asked, bitterly.

"No one," Tim agreed easily. That couldn't possibly pain him as much as Erin's death had.

"You should tell Mom and Dad. They'll want to know."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing now. I helped find who killed her...and I don't know, now. I just don't know, Sarah. I loved her."

Tim walked over to his chair and sat down. The full weight of the loss pressing down on him. He looked up at his sister.

"What do I do, Sarah? I...I only knew her for a few months and it felt like I'd known her forever...and now, I've lost her. What do I do?"

Sarah followed him and hugged him again.

"I don't know, Tim. I wish I did...but I'm here. I promise. Maybe Mom and Dad can help."

"Maybe."

Tim hugged Sarah back and cried a little bit, but mostly, he just wanted someone to lean on. While their positions were usually reversed, Sarah was willing to step up on the rare occasions when Tim needed her. She stayed with him. After a few minutes, they went into his bedroom and watched TV. Sarah let Tim dictate how long she stayed and what he would do. They fell asleep with the TV still on, but Tim had set the timer and about an hour after they fell asleep, the TV went off. Tim hadn't called home, but he knew Sarah was right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky heard his mother puttering around and got out of bed to make sure that she didn't wander off.

"Mother, what are you doing?"

"I thought I'd go and see my friend, Ethel, Donald," she said.

Sure enough, she was fully dressed to go out...at three in the morning. Nevermind the fact that Ethel had died years ago. Well, this could be dealt with. Ducky felt he'd managed quite well with her over the years.

"Mother, it's much too early for that. You know Ethel. She's a late sleeper."

"Oh, you're right, of course, Donald."

"Why don't you just take a nap until later?"

"That sounds lovely, dear. I am a bit tired and Ethel does get a bit funny in the head sometimes."

"That she does," Ducky said with a tolerant smile.

He helped his mother back to bed. More than likely, she wouldn't even remember this event when she woke up in the morning. Still, the more she wandered around at night, the more danger there was that she might wander off. Ducky knew that the time would come when he would have to take her to a nursing home just to keep her safe from herself. ...but that wasn't yet.

He went back to his room and was surprised to see his phone ringing. He couldn't think why anyone would call him this early in the morning.

"This is Dr. Mallard."

"_Hi, Dr. Mallard. You sound awake. I'm glad."_

"Who is this?"

"_Tim McGee."_

"Oh, of course, Mr. McGee. What is it? Why are you calling at this time of night?"

"_I didn't dare thank you at NCIS, and I didn't want to look up your phone number when people might be watching."_

"Who would be watching that would mind?"

"_Mr. Orlen...although he probably wouldn't care so much, but he'd report it to people who probably would mind. All I wanted to do was say thank you."_

"For what?"

"_For being honest with me and for trying to help me. It didn't do anything, but I appreciated it all the same. I'm a complete stranger to you and you put yourself out on a limb just to protest something that wouldn't have hurt me."_

"It's not much of a limb. I'm quite secure in my employment."

"_Yeah...so am I,"_ Tim said, but Ducky didn't get the sense that he was saying it the same way.

There was a silence.

"Mr. McGee, may I ask if there was anything else you wanted to say?"

"_No...yes. Dr. Mallard..."_

"What is it?" Ducky asked. Even though he couldn't see Tim's face, he felt as though he was speaking to a much younger man than he'd seen at NCIS.

"_...were you telling the truth?"_

"About what?"

"_About it not being my fault."_

"Most definitely."

"_But how could it _not_ be my fault when I'm the one who brought her into his view?"_

"Because you didn't kill her, lad. I can't deny that what you fear may be true to an extent. ..._however_, what you _cannot_ do is blame yourself for her death. You said that you love her, and if she reciprocated, I can't imagine that she would want you to think that it was your fault she died. It wasn't. The man to blame is the man who killed her. You didn't do that."

"_...but I'm kind of selfish, Dr. Mallard,"_ Tim said.

"In what way?"

"_One of the reasons I loved her so much... I think...that I could have been happy with her, that she could have saved me, and I've lost her."_

"Saved you? What do you mean? Saved you from what?"

That was the wrong question. Ducky could tell almost instantly that he had probed too far into Tim's life.

"_Thanks for letting me talk to you, Dr. Mallard, and thank you for helping me."_

"Anytime, lad."

"_No, but thank you. Good-bye."_

"Good-bye, Mr. McGee."

There was the telltale silence indicating the end of the call, and Ducky put his phone down, but he was suddenly no longer tired. He went back to bed and stayed awake for a long time, thinking about his conversation. For one thing, Tim had apparently not hesitated to find his phone number and call him...not even thinking about the time. Was it arrogance? If so, he had heard none of it in the conversation. Tim had mostly sounded numb, not arrogant. He wasn't sure he had ever heard someone so unsure of himself...a far cry from the rather world-weary young man he had met that day.

Who was this Timothy McGee?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat at his typewriter...the same place he'd been sitting for the last few hours since he'd called to say thank you. Erin had been his inspiration and she was gone now. It was like he had nothing to take her place. He felt bereft.

"Tim? Tim?"

Sarah came hurrying out of the bedroom.

"Good morning, Sarah."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm all right."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Sarah sat down on his desk.

"What you going to do now?"

"The same thing I've been doing. I have the weekend off and then I'll go back to work on Monday."

"But Tim!"

"Nothing has changed, Sarah," Tim said firmly. "Nothing. My lot is still the same as it was."

"It's wrong, Tim! It's wrong and you _know_ it's wrong."

Tim let out a despairing laugh.

"Sarah, you say that like it matters...as if right or wrong has anything to do with my situation. It doesn't. It never has. Okay? Stop talking about it as if you can change things just by saying it's wrong. You can't. It's impossible. I could have even been happy with it...with Erin. Just having her in my life made everything else easier to bear. ...but she's gone and so I'll have to go back to work without her...and that's the way it will be until I die or they get tired of me. And nothing I've done so far has made them tired of me."

"You could tell someone, Tim!"

Tim looked up and shook his head. "No. I'm not telling anyone and neither are you. This isn't some private company. This is a division of a federal agency. This is the government of the United States...or at least a powerful subsection of it. I am not willing to see how far they'd go to keep this quiet. Maybe I'm wrong and you're right...but it doesn't matter because I won't risk the few people I care about. Do you understand me, Sarah? I won't do it...and I won't let you, either."

Sarah still looked rebellious. He stood up, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her a little bit.

"Sarah, I have just lost one of the only people outside of our family that I've loved. I couldn't bear to lose anyone else. Do you understand? I can't. I only knew Erin for a few months. It would kill me if one of my family died. Or if any of you were made to suffer in any way for the mistake _I_ made. And it _was_ my mistake, Sarah. Mom and Dad don't like to talk about it, but it was my choice. I intentionally got caught. I just didn't think it through. My mistake. My problem. My consequences. No one else will suffer for them."

Sarah looked both angry and sad. She hugged him.

"But we _are_ suffering, Tim! Can't you see it? We know that you're miserable! That hurts _us_!"

"Better that than any other kind of pain," Tim said. "Maybe some day, they'll let me quit. It's not a bad job, Sarah."

"...but only if it's what you want! You don't want this, Tim! You never did! And that means that you're just a prisoner in a cell without bars! You do what they say and you have no choice, no escape. You're stuck inside the limits they set and you can't step outside them! You're in prison, Tim!"

"I know that...but if I had to pick between a cell with bars and a cell without bars, I'll take the one without bars. Even if it's just the lesser of two evils, it's still the lesser of two evils."

"Tim, you need to be happy!"

Tim swallowed the tears again.

"No, I don't, Sarah. I've lived for a long time without being happy."

"Oh, Tim!" Sarah said and hugged him more tightly.

"I'll survive, Sarah. I always have."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tim sent Sarah home on Saturday night, insisting that she didn't need to sit with him all the time. She had already blown off a night with her friends to be with him on Friday night and then Saturday. She had only agreed to go if he promised to call their parents before he went back to work. Sometimes, Tim couldn't help wondering who was the older sibling.

He took a deep breath and stared at his phone. He didn't call his parents very often. He knew his dad still felt guilty although Tim had long since stopped blaming him for it. He wasn't willing to give up his bitterness toward the Navy itself, but his father...his father had expressed more emotion on that night than he ever had. He had _hugged_ Tim at a moment when he could have rejected his son for having brought dishonor to the family.

Still, he was nervous about calling them. Part of him felt like he'd never really grown up. He'd stopped growing up at age seventeen. He was just as uncertain about talking to people and to his parents as he'd ever been. ...but he also had a part of him that felt a lot older than he was.

The part that had lost Erin.

He took another breath and dialed home.

"_McGees."_

"Hi...Dad," Tim said softly.

"_Tim, we haven't heard from you for a while. How are things going?"_

"Not...not so great, Dad," Tim said, feeling the pain hit him anew.

"_What is it? What's happened?"_

"Erin is dead. She was murdered, Dad."

There was a long silence.

"_Tim...I'm so sorry. You seemed really happy with her."_

"I was. I was...but she's dead now, and I don't know what to do, Dad."

"_Do you really want some advice?"_

"Yes," Tim said, feeling his throaten tighten up.

"_Day by day, Tim. One day at a time. Don't focus on the future without her. Just focus on getting through a day...because you can."_

Tim laughed a little bit and sniffled. "I didn't...know you were so smart, Dad."

"_I'm not. It's all your mother."_

"She's dead, Dad. I only knew her for a little while, but I loved her."

"_I never doubted it, not from the first time you told us about her. You can love her, Tim. You can miss her. ...and you can even feel an ache because she's gone. You don't have to know her for years to feel that."_

"And it's kind of my fault, Dad."

"_Why do you say that?"_

"The man who killed her...he did it because I got her to take me to the place where she'd witnessed a murder...and he was there. He saw her and knew who she was. He wouldn't have...if I hadn't taken her there. I got her killed."

"_No. That's not how it works, Tim."_

"That's what Dr. Mallard said, too."

"_Who?"_

"He's the medical examiner at NCIS. The man who killed Erin, killed a sailor, too."

"_Well, he's right. You didn't kill her. If the man saw her with you, it still isn't your fault."_

"It's just like before, Dad. I didn't think about the consequences...or I just didn't...I acted like a little kid, wanting to play detective. Why do I keep doing this?"

"_Twice in thirty years doesn't make it a trend, Tim."_

"I just...I want her back, Dad. Everything I'm doing was so much more bearable with her."

"_Tim, it's been thirteen years. Maybe we could do something about it."_

"No," Tim said quickly. "No, Dad. I don't want to."

"_If it's that hard, Tim..."_

"No, it's not. I can deal with it. I have been for years. It's just been hard with Erin...being killed. That's all. Once that...when it fades a little...when it's not so fresh in my mind...it'll be okay." The last thing Tim wanted was to have that risk.

"_All right, Tim, but you can call us anytime. Your mother is gone right now, but make sure you call on Sunday. She'll never get over it if she didn't get to talk to you."_

"Tell her about Erin for me, please. I don't..."

"_Of course, Tim. Remember that it's not your fault."_

Tim took a deep breath. "Good-bye."

"_Bye, Tim."_

Tim hung up and tossed his phone to the side again. He let himself stare up at the ceiling. There was no way he'd ever open up his family to what had been threatened. He'd never told anyone about it because he was too afraid of the consequences.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Thirteen years ago..._

_"You have two options, here, Tim," the nameless man said._

_"What do you mean?" Tim asked. He was afraid of this man who had taken Mr. Orlen's place, rather unexpectedly. The man had not introduced himself but his attitude was threatening to say the least. Tim was easily cowed anyway, but he was now pressing himself back against his chair, trying to get as far away from this man as he could._

_"I mean that there are two ways your work with us can go. If you do everything you're supposed to do and make no efforts to get away from us, you'll have Mr. Orlen watching you. If not..."_

_Tim swallowed. "If not...what?"_

_"Your family might have to pay the price for your mistakes."_

_"What do you mean?" Tim whispered._

_"I'll let you imagine what I mean, Tim. What's your choice?"_

_Tim could easily see this man as a killer. He had no trace of kindness in his eyes. He had nothing that marked him as a real human being. Maybe he wasn't, but Tim wouldn't put it past him. He had no idea who he was._

_"Mr. Orlen," he said in a very soft voice. "Mr. Orlen."_

_"Good. This is not a question we'll ask more than once, you understand. This is a one-time option. If you give up the one you've chosen, you'll have to suffer the consequences of the other. ...or rather, your family will have to suffer. Understand?"_

_Tim nodded. He was afraid he'd cry if he tried to say anything else._

_"Then, there's nothing else to talk about."_

_The man walked out of the room, and Tim was left alone, trying not to start crying again. He wasn't a child. He was seventeen years old and he shouldn't let these people see him crying, no matter how frightening the situation was._

_The door opened again a few minutes later._

_"Tim? You're ready?"_

_Tim got to his feet and nodded mutely._

_"Good. Come on."_

_Tim followed Mr. Orlen out of the room...hoping that he never was in the same room with that man again._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

It was Sunday evening, and Gibbs was working on his boat. Coming back from Mexico had been only partially what he wanted, and taking up the boat building again had helped him readjust to being back in DC. Actually, all this stuff with Erin Kendall's murder had loosened things up with his coworkers considerably. It was a distinct relief for him that things were heading back toward normal.

There was a token knock on his door and then it opened. Gibbs didn't look up. He just waited for whoever it was to come to where he was. If it was someone he knew, then the person would know where to find him. If it wasn't, then, Gibbs figured he was in a safe place.

"Jethro, may I interrupt?"

Now, Gibbs looked up and smiled.

"Sure, Duck. Come on down."

Ducky came down the stairs at a relaxed pace and settled himself on a stool before beginning to speak. Gibbs didn't rush him.

"Mother woke up early Saturday morning. She was having one of her moments, thinking that she'd visit a friend who'd been dead for years. After I got her settled again, I received a phone call. ...from Timothy McGee."

_That_ got his attention.

"What did he want?"

"To thank me, he said."

"For what?"

Ducky sighed. "For telling him the truth and for speaking up about that Mr. Orlen making him go back to work so soon after his girlfriend had been killed."

"And?"

"And there's something else he told me that...caught my attention. I don't think he intended to say it."

"What?"

"Two things actually."

Gibbs smiled and set down his chisel.

"What?"

"First, when I said that my job was secure, he said that his was, too...only he didn't sound happy about it."

"And?"

"And right before he hung up, he told me that he thought Erin Kendall could have saved him."

"Saved him from what?"

"I don't know. When I asked what he meant, he hung up, intimating that there'd be no more contact. He'd already implied that he'd get into trouble just for speaking to me."

"From DoD? They're hardly hired thugs, Duck," Gibbs said, skeptically. "I trust politicians as little as the next guy, but..."

"Just because he's working for a reputable agency doesn't mean that the people in charge of _him _aren't corrupt, or as you say, _hired thugs_," Ducky said firmly. "There are too many times that corruption occurs even in the most open of places. If Mr. McGee is working for people who have conditioned him not to speak of what they're doing, then, that would conceal the corruption from anyone who might wonder."

Gibbs nodded. "Let's say you're right. Then, what?"

"Then, we should figure out what is going on. Timothy McGee as good as told me he _needed_ saving. If so, and if the one he thought could save him is gone, then perhaps someone else should step in."

"Like us?"

"Yes. Like us."

"You said that he doesn't like questions. He didn't trust us, and he didn't seem inclined to ask us for help."

"But he called _me_, Jethro. Maybe he _can't_ ask for help."

"Maybe he doesn't _want_ it."

"I think he does...and I think you agree with me," Ducky said.

Gibbs held back a grimace. He _did_ agree with Ducky, but he didn't see how it was possible that they could do anything if Tim wasn't willing to talk and if no one else knew what he was doing. It's not like he could ask DoD about it.

"What do you propose we do?" Gibbs asked.

"Well...I will confess that I'm open to suggestions."

Gibbs smiled.

"How closely do you think someone would be watching for people digging into his past?"

"I couldn't say, although if he felt he needed to call me at three in the morning, that may be indicative of how much scrutiny he _thinks_ he has."

"We don't know much about him, Ducky. He could be paranoid for all we know."

"I would say not, but I can acknowledge the possibility. It's also something we could check."

"True." Gibbs took a breath and thought about it. "If we get Abby digging into it, we'll have to have a reason if they really _are_ watching. I'm not getting Abby in trouble, not for this."

"You were intrigued by this young man, too."

"Yeah, but not at the expense of other people."

"Of course. I'm not advocating that we be foolhardy. I just want to try and understand who he is."

"He works at DARPA, and he lives in Silver Spring."

"Do you have his address in Silver Spring?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. He'd been interested in finding out more, and Tim clearly had more to him than met the eye, but Ducky was far beyond interested. He was _concerned_, but with what he'd told Gibbs, there seemed to be reason for that.

"I can get it. We still have it from before...but we'll still be hard-pressed to justify our interest since I'm sure you won't be satisfied with just his address."

Ducky smiled. "More than likely not. I may well do some checking myself."

"Be careful, Duck. I don't want to have to bail you out, either."

"I'll be most circumspect, Jethro, but if you have some other ideas, I'll be happy to take them."

"I'll keep that in mind. Let me know what you find."

"Of course."

Ducky left the basement, and Gibbs looked after him for a few minutes. He tried to start working on his boat again, but he couldn't. Ducky's information had burrowed into his brain and got him thinking...which had probably been Ducky's intention from the start. He knew how Gibbs' mind worked.

Giving up on the chisel again, he sat down and took a drink of bourbon. What did they know about Tim? What did they _really_ know? He was fairly young and yet had not worried about getting in trouble with the law. He apparently didn't need to worry about losing his job, either. He had also recently lost a girlfriend. Tony had said that he was at Kate's funeral which had surprised Gibbs. What a coincidence...but Gibbs didn't like coincidences. Tim also apparently disliked the Navy, and it was a deep bitterness that governed his feelings. Based on what Ducky had said, Tim was also worried about being observed which indicated either past observation or else present paranoia.

What did all that add up to? Extrapolating from the facts they knew...meaning moving from known to guessed at... Gibbs took another sip. Tim had been burned in some way by the Navy in the past. Probably a long time ago. That kind of bitterness didn't develop quickly. Betrayal? Maybe. He was very skilled at what he did, whatever it was. Mr. Orlen's quick appearance after Tim's being brought to NCIS indicated value. ...and, if they took Tim's assertion at face value, the people who were in charge of Tim were also going to protect their investment.

The question was how far would they go.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tim went back to work on Monday. He'd called home and let his mother fret over him on Sunday, but then, he had been by himself. He hadn't felt like doing anything and so had gone to bed very early. When he got to work, he didn't feel like he could talk to anyone else. He just wanted to work and perhaps it showed because no one even tried to chat as they usually did. Mr. Orlen put him to solitary tasks, allowing him (or perhaps forcing him) to work alone.

His current task was to start running through all the many bugs that remained from the military communications project. It would take days. He and Erin had planned on starting it this week. Tim took a breath and let it out before letting the computer stuff take over his brain and keep him from thinking about what he'd lost. All that he had to do was get the bugs out of the program. That's it.

For the next two days, that's all he did. He didn't think and he didn't worry while he was there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby had processed all the evidence from the Dillon/Thorne murder...and had managed to solve about two other murders at the same time. Thorne had turned out to be a killer for hire, using the Navy as a cover. In a way, Erin Kendall's death had yielded a lot of good. It was just awful that it had taken her dying to do it. ...and awful that Tim had lost her.

At least there was something that had come out of it, although Abby doubted Tim would feel any better about it.

"Abbs, how's it going?"

Abby smiled.

"You got here just in time, Gibbs. ...do you think that Tim McGee is going to be okay? He seemed really upset about everything."

"He'll be fine. What do you have?"

"Thorne as a hired killer...and verification that he's the same person as Dillon."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"I matched the handwriting. Thorne's information doesn't check out at _all_. The company that leases out those apartments didn't bother with anything since he always paid his rent on time...but the bullets from that gun match two unsolved murders which were theorized as being committed by hired killers. Pryor was right that there was more to it. He's still a...but he was right. What's going to happen?"

"No death penalty, probably...possibility for parole after forty years. No trial. Could be worse."

"Yeah, I guess. So...what's next?" Abby asked, trying to shake off her gloom.

"You up to doing some...covert looking around?"

"Of course!" Abby said. "For what?"

"Background information about Timothy McGee."

"Why?"

"Partly curiosity and partly because Ducky thinks there might be something going on."

"Like what?" Abby asked, both intrigued and confused.

"Like how he got hired by the DoD...but you need to be careful."

"Why?"

"If there's something to find, they may not take it lightly that someone is looking into it."

Abby nodded. "Okay, Gibbs. I'll see what I can find...and I'll be careful."

"Good."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Tim."

Tim looked up from his computer and saw Mr. Orlen, looking as grave as he'd ever been.

"What is it, Mr. Orlen?"

"Come with me."

Tim nodded and got up. They started walking down the hall.

"What's going on?"

"Not out here, Tim."

Tim's stomach started twisting with worry. This wasn't normal. They weren't going to Mr. Orlen's office.

...and then, he realized where they were going.

To that frightening room.

"Why are we going here?" Tim asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"Not out here, Tim." That was all Mr. Orlen said.

Tim could feel his heart thumping heavily against his ribs. Every time he had come out of that room, he'd hoped never to go back in.

They got to the door, and Mr. Orlen stood aside.

"Go in, Tim. Go in and sit down."

Tim paused.

"Mr. Orlen...please..."

"Go inside," Mr. Orlen said again.

"I haven't done anything!"

"Go inside, Tim." His voice didn't raise. He just calmly restated what he had already said.

Tim walked into the room and sat down on the chair. Mr. Orlen closed the door and left Tim alone in there for a while.

When the door opened again, Tim knew the man who came in. He sat down on the only other chair in the room, directly across from Tim.

"What's going on?" Tim asked, trying to sound mature and unafraid. He was pretty sure he failed at that.

"I thought we had an understanding, Tim."

"We do. I haven't said anything."

"Then, explain this to me," he said and turned around to the computer behind him. He brought up some files. Tim's files. "Someone from NCIS has been trying to get into these files. In addition, we've noticed that there have been searches conducted looking for information about _you_."

"I haven't said anything to anyone!" Tim said.

"Are you sure? Why would NCIS be searching for information about you? The murder of Erin Kendall never involved you as a suspect. The case has been closed. What are they doing searching for you?"

"I don't know!" Tim said. "I swear I have no idea! I only talked to them once...well, twice, I did leave a message saying that they were responsible for Erin's death. That's all!"

"You know what could happen to the people you care about?"

Tim shook his head. "I don't know what's going on! I haven't told anyone...anything! I haven't! I've been doing my work. I've never tried to do anything less than my best! I swear! Don't do anything to my family!"

The man turned back to Tim and raised an eyebrow.

"Then, perhaps you should get these people to stop their searches."

"I will! I promise!"

"We'll see. You'd better make sure those searches stop."

"I will."

"Then, get back to work."

"Okay."

Tim got to his feet and left the room as quickly as he could. Mr. Orlen was waiting calmly in the hallway. Tim could have sworn there was a momentary expression of relief on his face before going back to his usual bland expression.

He gestured for Tim to follow him. They walked through the halls back to Tim's computer. Mr. Orlen left him there and Tim sank onto his chair, stared at the monitor for a few seconds and then dropped his head to the desk and tried to get control of himself. He hadn't thought this would be an issue again. He'd been so careful.

He would have to tell that Dr. Mallard to stop. No one else at NCIS had seemed to have any real interest. He would tell him. Tonight. Forcing himself to calm down, he sat up and did a quick search so that he could get Dr. Mallard's home address. He wouldn't risk confronting him at NCIS. Someone else might see him. He'd get Dr. Mallard to stop this.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was a bit tired. There were days when he just wanted to come home and relax...not take care of his aging mother. The interesting thing was that he rather thought his mother had expected to die long before her mind gave out, but her body had outlasted her mind. If he was lucky, she'd be asleep already since it was rather late.

When he walked in, the nurse who took care of her during the day hurried to greet him, putting a finger to her lips.

"She's asleep, Ducky. It's actually been a good day."

"That's wonderful, Judy. Thank you very much."

"My pleasure. You know, Ducky, you could take her to one of the nursing homes for a few days if you needed a break. It happens more often than you might think."

"I'm aware of that and I'll keep it in mind," Ducky said, but for now, that wasn't even in the cards. As tired as he was, it wasn't his nature to leave her.

Judy just smiled and packed up to go. After she was gone, Ducky savored the quiet of his home. He put some water on the stove to heat up for tea and then silently blessed Judy for her thoughtfulness in making dinner for him. It wasn't something she was paid for, but on the nights when Ducky was late getting back, she generally left him something that he could just warm up and eat. All in all, he was looking forward to a nice evening, leading to what could possibly be a nice weekend.

...at least, that's what he thought before a car pulled to a stop in front of his house, feet pounded up his steps and someone began knocking loudly on the door. Ducky hurried to the door as quickly as he could. Sometimes, his mother slept like a log. Other times, she would awaken with the slightest sound. He could only pray that she wouldn't wake up this time. He pulled open the door and was shocked by Tim walking into his house and turning around. He looked extremely upset.

"Dr. Mallard, you have to stop what you're doing. I don't know why you're doing it, but stop it! Please!"

"Mr. McGee, please, keep your voice down," Ducky said softly. "My mother is asleep and it's hard to keep her that way when she wakes up. I don't want to have to explain to her that her friends died twenty years ago and that the ones who are still alive are in Scotland. So, please, be quiet and explain what you mean."

Maybe it was the surprise that Ducky didn't react to Tim's declaration at all, but Tim stopped talking, although he still looked very upset.

"Now, why don't you go into the kitchen, right through that door and have a seat whilst I check on my mother. When I get back, we'll have some tea and you can tell me what's going on."

Tim swallowed his panic, and panic it most definitely was. Ducky almost felt like he was looking at a teenager, not an adult. Quietly, he walked back to his mother's room and was relieved that she'd slept through Tim's arrival. Then, he went back to the kitchen. Tim was sitting at his kitchen table, his head in his hands.

"Mr. McGee?"

Tim sat up quickly.

"How do you like your tea?"

"I don't need any tea. I just need you to stop."

"Well, I'll pour you some tea anyway," Ducky said with a gentle smile, trying to put Tim at ease. He took the boiling water off the stove and poured it over the tea leaves to let it steep. "Cream?"

"I don't care," Tim said. "I don't care, Dr. Mallard."

"Understandable," Ducky said. "You seem quite upset. Tea has remarkable calming qualities. I like to have a bit of honey with my tea rather than sugar."

He set the tray down on the table, served Tim some tea and held back a smile when Tim added honey to his cup.

"Now, what was it you came here for?"

"I don't know why you're looking for information about me, Dr. Mallard, but you need to stop. I don't want you to look at my life. I don't _need_ you to look at my life. I need you to stop trying to...do whatever you're doing. You don't know what that could mean."

"What _could_ it mean, Mr. McGee?" Ducky asked. He took a sip of his tea.

"I can't talk about it. You just need to stop."

"Who's threatened you?"

"I'm not being threatened, Dr. Mallard. I don't... Why are you doing this?"

"Because you strike me as a man who is trapped. ...by what, I don't know, but trapped you are. I would guess that this is a situation you've been in for a long time. You don't seem surprised by anything."

"But why are you interested? I don't understand," Tim said.

"The tea is best while it's still hot," Ducky said.

Tim took a drink and set down the cup.

"Don't do this to me, Dr. Mallard. Please. I'm begging you."

"Give me a reason why, Mr. McGee. If you wish, I will not spread it any further than my house."

Tim took a breath and let it out. He shook his head.

"Clearly, you're very well accustomed to keeping your own counsel, but let me assure you, Mr. McGee, whatever else you might think, I am able to keep my mouth closed if the circumstances warrant it...but in this case, I can't see that they do...unless you give a reason."

"My family..." Tim said finally. "That's the reason." He stared at the table. "They're the most important and the only reason that there could be."

"They're threatening your family."

Tim nodded mutely.

"And you don't feel you can tell anyone about this?"

He shook his head.

Ducky looked at the young man for a few seconds. Tim definitely believed that his family was in danger if he spoke...or if anyone began probing into his life.

"Mr. McGee...do you enjoy the situation you're in?"

No response.

"Wouldn't you want to get out of it?"

No response.

"I see. All you care about is keeping your family safe, don't you."

A nod.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you seem quite miserable, Mr. McGee. Am I right?"

Tim swallowed audibly and took in a noisy breath. A single nod.

"Very well. I will call off our searches...I won't lie to you, Mr. McGee. Based on what little you've been willing or able to say to me, I am now more determined than ever to free you from whatever prison you're in."

"Don't. I do what I'm told and that's okay. I get paid. I get time off. I'm an employee," Tim said, still staring at the table.

"And you apparently have no option of choosing a new occupation. However, now that I know you feel your family would be in danger, I will change my tactics."

"Why can't you just leave it?"

"Because leaving it would mean abandoning an innocent man to prison."

"No. I'm not innocent. I brought this on myself. It's what I deserve, and I'm not going to let anyone suffer for what I did."

"I will keep that in mind. Why don't you finish your tea?"

Tim gulped it down, wincing at the heat. Then, he stood up.

"Will you stop?"

"The searches, yes."

Tim nodded. "Thank you."

Ducky stood up. "Mr. McGee, I am not the only one who has taken an interest. Others at NCIS have as well, and it is motivated mostly by concern because you have an aura, almost of despair, which is clear from any extended conversation with you. I can't imagine why people haven't noticed it before."

"If you don't have friends..." Tim said softly.

"Ah."

"I have to go."

"Understood. Good luck, Timothy."

Tim looked at him in surprise but didn't protest the use of his given name. He left the house much more calmly than he'd entered. Ducky sighed and walked back to the kitchen. He put his dinner in the microwave and pulled out his phone.

"_Gibbs."_

"Jethro, I will explain at length tomorrow, but could you ask Abigail to stop her searches for the moment?"

"_They knew?"_

"Yes, and apparently threatened Timothy's family...and have done so before."

"_She's got quite a bit already. Somewhere to start."_

"Good. I'm not giving up on him. He came here in a panic, begging me to stop because of what might happen to his family. No matter how much danger his family _actually_ is in, they have created a situation in which they only have to threaten and that's enough. Timothy is well-controlled."

"_Okay, Duck. Tomorrow."_

"Yes, tomorrow."

Gibbs hung up and the microwave beeped. Ducky took out his dinner and ate it, thinking more about Tim's situation than he was about his food. No one should have to live as Tim was.

He wasn't giving up. They had to get Tim away from this situation...and they would.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The next day being a work day meant that the discussion was to be put off until later. Ducky stopped by Gibbs' desk and Gibbs just nodded at his unspoken question. Throughout the rest of the day, Ducky's mind was only half on his work. He was thinking about what he had seen in Tim last night.

"Dr. Mallard? Sir?"

"Yes, what is it, Mr. Palmer?"

"Is something wrong? You've been...different today."

"Yes, there is something wrong, but not with me and mine. Did you see the young man who came here in the wake of a murder?"

"Oh, yeah. I did. ...well, I didn't see _much_ of him. People told me about him, though. Why?"

"He is the subject of my preoccupation. I have recently learned that his lot in life is rather negative and that he has no hope of it ever changing."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I don't know. He doesn't think it's possible for _anyone_ to help him, and he's unwilling to trust those who might try. Any risk is too much of a risk in his mind."

Jimmy nodded and was quiet for a few seconds.

"You know...that is too bad. It must have taken a long time to get him like that. He didn't seem very old."

Ducky cocked his head to the side.

"No...you're right, Mr. Palmer. He _isn't_ very old now and if he's become used to this...it must have taken a long time. I wonder how long it has been."

"Would he tell you if you asked him?"

"I'm not sure. He is very reluctant to trust."

"Well, if he doesn't realize he can trust you, he doesn't know you at all, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky smiled as Jimmy ducked his head in embarrassment at his bold declaration.

"Why thank you, Mr. Palmer."

"It's true."

"Nevertheless, I appreciate your confidence. Now, we should get back to work...but I believe that we will be addressing this later this evening. Would you like to join us?"

"Do you think I could help?"

"I think that the more minds bent to this, the better."

"Could I ask you something, Dr. Mallard?"

"Of course."

"Why are you so determined to help him? ...I mean, if he doesn't seem to want the help."

"It's a good question, Mr. Palmer. The reason is because I look at him and see a man who is suffering and sees no chance for reprieve. No matter how much he may want it, he doesn't think he can have a life of his own. He's not trying, not asking...not because he doesn't want it but because he has been conditioned to believe it's not possible. No one deserves that."

"Okay. I'll try to help, if I can."

"Thank you. But for now, there's work to be done right here."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abby, what are you doing?" Gibbs asked as he came into the lab.

"Just finishing up my report on the Marciano case," Abby said. "Then, I was going to do a bit more looking around."

"That search is on hold," Gibbs said.

"Why?"

"Because they know about it."

"But, Gibbs, I was really careful! Honest! You warned me so many times to be careful that I really was!"

Gibbs smiled. "They're apparently more careful than you are. Ducky's not giving up."

"Neither am I!"

"Good. We're going to meet up later. Tonight."

"Where?"

"My place."

"I'll be there...but not with bells on because that would only draw attention to us."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and kissed Abby on the cheek. She acted intentionally silly at times, and he knew it was often used to cover up any worry she might have about what was coming.

"You do that."

"You know...we should get Tony and Ziva in on it, too."

Gibbs didn't answer. He hadn't considered widening the group all that much. He had needed Abby because she knew how to do the searches that defeated him on a regular basis. If that hadn't been the case, he would have kept it between Ducky and himself. It was an interesting idea. It would be as if they were conducting an investigation...off the books. He was fairly certain that DARPA would _not_ be pleased if they knew.

Through the rest of the day, he considered Abby's suggestion. He wasn't sure about it and he wanted to make sure he'd considered all the possible issues before he committed himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The elevator jerked to a stop. Tony and Ziva looked at Gibbs with a little bit of surprise. It wasn't the elevator stopping that surprised them, merely that it was stopping right this instant.

"What's up, Boss?"

"Ducky wants our help."

"With what?" Tony asked.

"With figuring out what's up with Timothy McGee."

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked. "And why?"

"Ducky is convinced that he's working for DARPA against his will and that he wishes he could do something else with his life."

"Why?"

"He asked me to get Abby looking into McGee's past and apparently his overseers knew about it and threatened his family if we kept searching for information about him."

"His family? Who is this guy? Why would they care that much?" Tony asked.

"He said that he has been working for them since he was seventeen," Ziva said. "He must have some skills."

"But enough that they'd threaten him to keep anyone from looking into his past?"

"If they have been doing shady things to keep him..." Ziva began.

"They don't want anyone to know what they did...but what did they do?" Tony asked.

"Maybe that Mr. Orlen knows," Ziva suggested.

"He probably does, but we can't ask _him_," Tony said. "He would be part of the problem. You saw how quickly he showed up after all this stuff with Jeremy Pryor."

"What are we going to do, then?"

"We're going to meet at my house tonight after work," Gibbs said. "And we're going to see if we can figure something out."

"Ideally, what will come from this?" Ziva asked.

"McGee will be free to do what he wants," Gibbs said. "Whatever that might be. No one should have to work under threat."

Tony gave a side glance at Ziva but quickly focused back on Gibbs.

"Okay, Boss. I'm game. When will we be bringing McGee himself into it?"

"When we know that there's a possibility. If there's no hope of it, then, there's not much point."

"Okay."

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked.

She nodded silently.

Gibbs turned back on the elevator.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The day was almost over. Tim had been working at a furious pace, not talking to anyone, hoping for reciprocation. The only good thing about the fear he felt was that it took precedence over his grief about Erin's death. He couldn't think about how he felt about losing the woman he loved while he had to worry about what could happen to his family.

"Tim."

Tim looked up at Mr. Orlen.

"Yes?"

"Come with me."

"Please, no, Mr. Orlen," Tim whispered. "Don't make me go back into that room."

"Come on."

That was all. Mr. Orlen never raised his voice. He never threatened. He didn't need to. There were too many years of obedience that had come before. Tim would obey. He had to. He took a breath and got to his feet.

They walked down the hall to the room Tim feared more than anything. Mr. Orlen waited out in the hall, as he always did. He gestured.

"What's going to happen?" Tim asked. "I did what they said."

"Inside, Tim."

That was all.

Tim swallowed hard and walked into the room. The door closed behind him. He walked over to the chair and sat on it.

He was alone for a few seconds and then, the door opened, revealing the frightening man again. He walked over and sat down across from Tim.

"Well?" he asked.

"You must have seen," Tim said, speaking quickly to cover the trembling in his voice. "They stopped."

"How did you get them to stop?"

"I asked."

"Whom?"

"Dr. Mallard. He was the only one who expressed any interest in me. I knew it had to be him."

"Why was he interested?"

"He felt sorry for me...because of Erin dying. That's all."

"And he did what you asked him to do?"

"Yes! You must have noticed!"

"This man cares enough about you to listen to what you tell him to do?"

Tim hadn't thought of it that way. He had only thought of it in terms of getting the person who was responsible to stop. They had told him to get the searches to stop, and he had. That was all. Why wasn't that enough?

"I don't know. I don't know him at all. I only met him when he took my statement at NCIS. That's all! I swear!"

"Are you sure that you didn't tell him anything?"

"I swear I didn't!" Tim said, almost frantically. It didn't matter that, to his knowledge, this man had never touched his family, that he had never touched Tim. All that mattered was the possibility. "I told him that he needed to stop, that it was important and that he didn't need to know anything about me and I didn't want him to. That's all!"

"I see."

Tim found that reply to be rather noncommittal. He tried to make up for whatever this man might have perceived Tim to have done wrong.

"You told me to stop the searches! I did! I did what you said! I would never put my family in danger."

"We'll see."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that you've been out and about a bit too much. The project you've been working on needs to get done quickly. It will need all your time."

"Okay," Tim agreed. It wasn't like he had any friends to hang out with. Sarah was busy with school and his parents were in San Diego. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

"Good. Go home and pack a bag. You'll be needed here on site for about a week."

"Okay."

Tim got to his feet and turned to leave.

"Wait."

Tim froze in place and turned back.

"If I find out that you've given any information to these NCIS people..."

"I haven't!" Tim said, praying that they'd never find out that he'd mutely assented to what Ducky had asked him.

"You'd better hope so."

Tim nodded and left the room. Mr. Orlen was there as always.

"I'm going to be here for the next week," Tim said, speaking quickly again. "I'm going home to pack. I'll be back here tonight."

"Okay."

That was all.

Tim hurried back to his apartment, packed the clothes he'd need, sent Sarah a quick message telling her not to bother coming over for a while, and then left. This kind of thing had happened before. Tim wondered if it was a test to make sure that no one would miss him.

_And no one will now...now that Erin is dead._

The pang of grief was still there, but muted by his anxiety to prove that he was doing exactly what they wanted him to do. No varying. He wouldn't step outside the bounds they'd set. Ever.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Later that night, the whole MCRT (except for Lee. She was too fresh in the job for them to want to put her on the spot at the moment), Ducky, Jimmy and Abby were gathered in Gibbs' basement.

"All right...so could you tell me why we're here to help someone who doesn't seem to want to be helped?" Tony asked.

"You don't have to be here, Anthony," Ducky said mildly.

"That's not what I'm saying," Tony said. "What I'm saying is that this guy doesn't seem to want to have any association with us because we're affiliated with the Navy. What makes you think he'll welcome any...intrusion into his life by us?"

"If we can do _something_ to help him, I think he'll welcome the intrusion from any source. I asked him if he was unhappy with his lot and he nodded. His _family_ has been threatened. I don't know that these people would actually harm them, but I do know that it doesn't really matter. What matters is Timothy's perception."

"And what's his perception?" Tony asked.

"That he brought this on himself, that if he protests or tries to fight it, he could bring harm to his family, and that there is no hope of ever getting out of it. Do you really want to leave a man in those straits?" Ducky asked.

"No. I just don't know if there's anything we can do. Gibbs already told us that they found out that Abby had been searching. What are we going to be able to do if they're that determined and if we can't rely on Tim McGee to help us help him?"

"That's what we're here for," Abby said indignantly. "Why give up before we've even started?"

"And maybe we'll think of something," Jimmy said. "It's not like we have anything to lose by talking here in the basement."

"But if we start trying something, we may," Ziva said.

"Like I said before, if you'd rather not be here, you may leave," Ducky said.

Ziva just shrugged and sat on a stool. Ducky smiled and she nodded.

"Where should we start?" Tony asked after a moment.

"Abby," Gibbs said. "Tell us what you found."

"Where do you want me to start?" Abby asked.

"At the beginning. What do you know about McGee's life?"

"Okay. Tim McGee is the son of Joan and Loren McGee. He has one sister, Sarah, who is currently attending Waverley. Oh, and did I mention that Loren McGee is actually Rear Admiral McGee? The son of Admiral Charles McGee?"

"Who was the son of another admiral?" Tony asked.

"No, but he _was_ the son of Lieutenant McGee. Tim McGee comes from a long line of naval officers. His dad was promoted to rear admiral just before Tim started working for ARPA."

"ARPA? Isn't it DARPA?" Jimmy asked.

"It is now, and it was once before, but when Tim was hired, it was ARPA."

"If he comes from such a family, why would he hate the Navy so much?" Ziva asked.

"Maybe he didn't want to follow in the family tradition," Tony said. "He wouldn't be the first guy to feel that way."

"Well, his schoolmates didn't see him as a Navy guy," Abby said. "He was voted most likely to take down Bill Gates."

"And?"

"And...well, here's where they probably figured out that I was looking around," Abby said a little sheepishly.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"Well, our illustrious DoD man was slated to attend the Naval Academy the year after he graduated."

"How did you discover _that_?" Ducky asked in surprise.

"I may have...done a bit of hacking into old school files. I had a hunch."

"And it panned out? He was actually admitted?"

Abby nodded. "Tim graduated at sixteen, but they don't admit students under the age of seventeen. So he had to wait a year...but he was on the roster."

"So what did he do while he was waiting? Plot to take down Microsoft?" Tony asked.

Abby chuckled a little. "I actually can't tell you what he did but I _can_ tell you what he _didn't_ do."

"And what's that?"

"He didn't ever go to college. Not _anywhere_," Abby said. "Tim McGee started working for DoD at age seventeen and that's it."

"No college? What could he do that would make DARPA want him without any university training?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't know," Abby admitted.

"And how would they know anything about him without college?" Tony asked. "Unless his high school was one of those preppy places."

"Like _you_ went to?" Abby asked.

"Yeah. I may not have made much use of them beyond for sports but those are the kinds of high schools that get attention."

"He went to a public school," Abby said. "Nothing special about it at all. He did have the computer teacher there listed as his favorite in the yearbook, a Jerome Larsen...now retired...but there was nothing special about the school."

"So how did DARPA know about him?"

"That's the one thing I can't tell you," Abby said. "It's weird. I can find little things here and there, school newspaper stuff about Tim...more about Admiral McGee, but after Tim turns seventeen, there's nothing...nothing beyond his DoD records. I made one attempt to get into those, but I couldn't break in and I didn't dare try more than once."

"What about the admiral?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, he was on the fast track for promotions...up until Tim turned seventeen. After that, he moved up, but not much. When he was first promoted to rear admiral lower half, just before Tim started at ARPA, there was a little article in the local paper and they were predicting that he'd move up to vice admiral fast...maybe even to a full admiral, but he's been a rear admiral ever since, although he got bumped up from lower half to upper half...just last year. He was transferred to San Diego seven years after Tim got hired. He and his wife have been there ever since."

"Do you know how often they've visited?"

Abby shook her head. "I didn't get that far in my searches before you told me to hold off."

"Any sign that he was trying to move up faster?" Tony asked. "You know, like DoD was holding him back for any reason?"

Abby shook her head again. "No complaints. He was commended a number of times for his work, but apparently, he just didn't care and didn't push for it like he was before."

"After his son started working for DoD against his will," Ducky said softly. "Do you think they know about the threats made against them?"

"If it were my parents, I'd say no way," Tony said. "No matter how disinterested they might be, they wouldn't be sitting back if that were the case. If this guy really is making a sacrifice to keep his family safe, he's not going to _tell_ them that's what he's doing."

"Yeah, that would pretty much defeat the purpose," Abby said. "So...now what?"

"We need to know more than we do," Ducky said. "What we really need is a chance to speak to his family."

"Yeah, but that's risky," Abby said.

"Indeed, and I'm not sure I'm actually suggesting it."

"You know...there may be other ways of getting this information than just with us doing it," Ziva said.

"We're not torturing them, Ziva," Tony said.

"Ha ha. Very funny, Tony," Ziva said. "_I_ was referring to the fact that we know other people who could, conceivably, speak to members of the McGee family without arousing suspicion. Clearly, we, here in DC, will be under some scrutiny...others will not be."

Ducky smiled as an idea struck him.

"Isn't Stan Burley in port in San Diego right now?"

Gibbs smiled. "I think he is."

"Hey, I have an idea," Abby said with a grin.

"What?"

"What do you think the odds are that Tim would be a gamer?"

"That's a computer geek thing to do," Tony said. "Wouldn't surprise me...if he has the time for it."

"Exactly. I don't game as much as I used to, but I still have some friends in the MMORPGs," Abby said. "I could maybe find him if he plays, ask him about his characters. There are a lot of places, but some people make waves. He could be one of them. Last resort, I could just email him and ask him if he games."

"He may not trust some random person chatting with him online," Jimmy pointed out. "If he's not trusting Dr. Mallard..."

"If I find him, I'll be honest," Abby said. "Then, he can choose, but he'll know right off the bat what he's choosing to do. He won't have to worry about my intentions."

"What about his sister?"

"Oh, I forgot. She has an interesting blog," Abby said with a smile.

"Really? What is it?"

"It's an investigation into what freedom means in a free country. She writes about what freedoms we assume, what freedom really is. She wrote a really detailed entry about how assumptions made in high school about the value of sports, cheerleading and academics is actually restricting our freedoms. I think that if she wasn't so focused on this stuff that she'd have a really sharp tongue to unleash on someone else. She could definitely make enemies if she wanted to."

"Freedom, huh?" Gibbs said.

"Yeah. She wrote another entry about the sacrifices people make for the country. She doesn't ever come out and say it, but I think it's about Tim. Most people who commented assumed that she was talking about soldiers. She's majoring in English lit, but she's also got a minor in creative writing. ...that's on her blog. I didn't have to do anything to find that out."

"So...we could ask her about it, but we'd have to be careful."

"What about Lee?"

"She's not here, Tony," Abby said.

"And we left her out because we were not sure she was ready to be involved in something off the books," Ziva added.

"Well, maybe we should reconsider that," Tony said. "She's young enough that she could go to Waverley and blend in."

"We'll keep that in mind," Gibbs said. "The question is what now?"

"I think that we need to gather more information first," Ducky said. "Would you like to call Stan, Jethro?"

Gibbs nodded.

"And I'll see if I can find Tim online," Abby said.

"We don't talk about this at NCIS," Gibbs said. "Only here. We don't know how paranoid they might be."

"So we're going to be _more_ paranoid?" Tony asked.

"Exactly."

"We may need to be," Ziva said. "If they are willing to resort to violence, we may all be putting ourselves in danger."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"I'll do my best, Gibbs," Stan said, "but can't you tell me anything more?"

"_No."_

"What do you want me to tell Admiral McGee? I don't know him at all. There are no cases needing his input."

"_Be your usual charming self, Stan."_ Gibbs said.

"I can do that, but if what you've told me is true, he may not be welcoming to someone trying to probe into the history of his only son."

"_Do your best."_

"I will. Just don't be disappointed if my charm fails to get what you want."

Gibbs just chuckled and hung up. Stan sighed. He appreciated the fact that Gibbs was trying to help someone out, but knowing that nothing could be official and that he would be approaching someone to ask about an event that may seem...shameful...and worse, could even be dangerous... It was a tall order. Still, he'd promised. He owed Gibbs a favor and this was to be it.

Stan sat down and looked up where Admiral McGee might be at this moment. Then, he walked out of the NCIS office and headed for the base. When he got there, he asked around and got directed to the docks. As he headed over, he saw the man who must be Rear Admiral Loren McGee. His hair was gray. He was thin but solid...and he was taller than Stan had expected...a little bit taller than Stan himself was. He was standing straight, staring out at the water, apparently lost in thought.

"Admiral McGee?" Stan asked as he got closer.

Proving that he had not achieved his rank without skill and experience, Admiral McGee turned to face Stan without any appearance of surprise.

"Yes?"

"Hello, sir. I'm Agent Stan Burley. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment."

"Regarding what, Agent Burley? I wasn't aware of any problems requiring my input here on base."

"It's not about the base...and actually, it's not official. I'll tell you what it's about and you have every right to tell me where to get off."

Admiral McGee smiled a little.

"That's an interesting beginning. I'm intrigued."

"It's about your son, Timothy McGee."

The smile vanished and Admiral McGee's expression became closed off. No suspicion was shown but Stan could guess that he was probably feeling more than a little wary.

"In what respect?"

"I don't know how much of what's going on with your son you want to keep quiet, sir, but maybe you want to talk somewhere else?"

"No, Agent Burley. If there is something that needs to be kept private, this is the best place to keep it that way. Out here in the open. No place to eavesdrop, here."

"All right. Let me lay it out. I got a call from a friend of mine, my old boss, actually, back in DC. He met your son in the course of an investigation and he and some others at NCIS are worried about him."

"Why?"

"Because they seem to think that he's working under duress, that he's miserable and wishes there was a way out. Keep in mind, sir, that I don't know any details."

"What did your friend want you to find out?"

"How it is that your son came to work for DoD, how much of that has to do with the dramatic slowdown in your naval career and how much you know about his current situation."

"Given what your friend seems to think the situation is, why would he assume that I'd just tell you anything?"

Stan smiled easily. "That's what I asked him, myself." He pulled out his badge and ID. "Here's my proof that I am who I say I am. None of this is official. In fact, I got the feeling that they were trying to be as quiet as possible."

Admiral McGee took Stan's ID and badge and examined them both closely. Stan was interested that he was willing to take the time.

"If you want to tell me to mind my own business, that's fine. No hard feelings and I'll go tell Gibbs that I told him so."

There was a moment of silence and then Admiral McGee looked at Stan again...very closely.

"This says you're an Agent Afloat."

"I am."

"Been doing that long?"

"A little over five years."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

"You married?"

"Nope. Never found a girl willing to deal with a husband who was gone for long stretches of time. I'm not ready to be landlocked yet."

Finally, the smile returned to Admiral McGee's face. He handed back Stan's ID and badge.

"Agent Burley, what you're asking is a long story. A very long story, and not a happy one. Certainly not one that can be told standing out here on the docks when I have work to do. So...why don't you come and join my wife and I for dinner tonight?"

That was a surprise.

"Really?"

The smile widened.

"You seem to be genuine, although I'll warn you right now that I'm going to look you up as soon as I get back to my office."

"Go right ahead."

Admiral McGee nodded.

"Please understand, Agent Burley, that what you're asking for is not a story any of us have ever told anyone. I'm not even sure we should, but you've said that my son is miserable and wants out. If that's the case, then, he's worse off than he's been letting on. McGees don't abandon their family. Ever."

Stan nodded.

"I respect that, sir. That's why I wanted you to know up front that this is completely voluntary on your part. I _will_ be telling Gibbs about whatever you tell me, but beyond that, as far as any official report is concerned, this isn't happening."

"Understood." Admiral McGee straightened. "My wife and I have chosen to live off base." He pulled out a card. "This is our address. Come by around seven."

"I'll be there."

"All right."

Stan put out his hand. Admiral McGee looked at him for a moment longer and then shook the proffered hand firmly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Agent Burley. I have duties to attend to."

"Of course, sir."

Stan watched as Admiral McGee walked away. As straight-laced a man as he'd ever seen. He couldn't imagine him being involved in anything sneaky or illegal. In fact, he couldn't imagine him even peripherally involved in anything questionable. He _could_, however, imagine this man being taken advantage of because of how honest he was...except that he seemed very worldly as well. He was aware of what people were like. So the question was did he know how far the people involved would go?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was filling out a report on his most recent autopsy when his phone rang. It was the ring he'd attached to when his mother called him, not that she did that often.

"Hello, Mother," he said. "What is it?"

"_Donald, I don't know where I am."_

Ducky instantly started paying close attention. His mother was in one of her lucid moments. He could tell by the sound of her voice, and he could also tell that she was worried.

"What do you mean?"

"_Well, those nice men came over and then they left me...where I am, but I don't know where that is, Donald, and I'm more than a little worried."_

"All right. Mother, are you in a safe place?"

"_I believe so. It looks like a park."_

"Very well. Just stay right where you are and don't turn off your phone. I will get someone to track your location and I'll come and get you."

"_This is rather embarrassing, Donald. I don't even remember how I got here."_

"That's quite all right, Mother," Ducky said as he hurried to Abby's lab. "These things happen. What about Judy? Did she not come?"

"_She was there, but...I don't...remember."_

Ducky knew how hard it was for his mother to admit that when she was lucid. Although the periods of lucidity were becoming ever more rare (and shorter), when they came, she was the same independent, strong woman she'd been and she disliked showing any kind of weakness to her son.

"It's all right, Mother. Just stay on the line and we'll find out where you are."

He walked to the lab.

"Abigail, I need your help. Right now."

Abby turned around.

"What is it, Ducky?"

"My mother is lost, but she does have the phone I gave her and she's in a park somewhere."

"How did she get there?"

"Someone took her there and left her."

Abby's eyes widened as the possibility of what had happened struck her.

"Okay. Give me her number and we'll find her fast."

Ducky did so and Abby quickly brought up her tracking program. Ducky waited quietly, but with rising anxiety as she did her work.

"I found her, Ducky," Abby said. "She's...right across the river in Anacostia Park."

Abby brought up the map and showed him.

"Thank goodness." He put the phone back to his ear. "Mother, I'll be right there to get you, all right?"

"_Very well, Donald. I don't like this."_

"I don't, either." Ducky said, "but I'll be there to get you in a moment."

"_I think I'd rather stay on the phone, Donald."_

"Of course."

"Is she okay, Ducky?" Abby asked.

"Yes, she appears to be. She simply is worried. Tell Jethro about this. I'll bring my mother back here. She's fortunate that this happened in one of her more lucid moments. She may not have thought to call otherwise."

Abby nodded and hugged Ducky quickly. He headed to his car and drove across the Anacostia to the park. It didn't take long to find his mother. She was just sitting on a bench with the phone in her hand. There was no one around at all. His mother didn't looked harmed in any way.

"Mother?"

She looked at him and smiled with relief.

"Donald, what is going on? Where am I?"

Ducky smiled. Even in her lucid moments at this point, she wasn't fully herself. There were signs around, the river, many clues to say where she was, but she couldn't think of those things or even think to mention them. Her world was much smaller than it had been.

"You're in Anacostia Park, just across the river from NCIS. Shall we go?"

"Yes, of course."

Ducky helped her into his car and they went back to NCIS. When they arrived, Gibbs was waiting just outside the building.

"She's all right, Jethro," Ducky said.

"Matthew, isn't it?" Victoria said. "I seem to recall meeting you before."

"We have, ma'am. Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Oh...Matthew is a much nicer name, you know."

"Mother, please. Let's just get you inside. I'll call Judy."

They took Ducky's mother to an empty desk and had her sit there for a moment while Ducky called Judy. It turned out that two men had come by, saying they were with NCIS and that Victoria needed to come to NCIS because she had a last-minute appointment and Ducky was going to take her. They had badges and ID, and of course, Victoria couldn't have said if that was the case or not. Judy was horrified to find that they weren't who they had said they were and apologized many times before Ducky managed to interrupt her. He asked her to come to NCIS to describe the men and then Gibbs pulled Ducky aside to get the whole story.

"What happened?"

Ducky sighed. "Two men apparently took my mother away from her house and left her alone in a park."

"You know what this is probably about," Gibbs said.

"Yes, but I don't know why. It's not as if these men would have known me. That Mr. Orlen saw you and me as well as Jenny. If he was responsible..."

"What if McGee mentioned you? You're not going to be an important person to him, Ducky. If he's only worried about his family, then you're not even going to be a blip on his radar."

"Are you saying that you think we should give up?" Ducky asked.

"Maybe. If they've moved on to you this fast. We haven't _done_ anything beyond ask questions yet."

Ducky shook his head. "No, Jethro. That is the most dangerous thing to do...to question. We are not accepting anything at face value and we are in danger of exposing this exploitation to a wider audience. What we are doing now is the pinnacle of what these people obviously do _not_ want. If we give up now, we are abandoning Timothy to his life and how much longer do you think he will be able to tolerate it before he gives up? He said that Erin Kendall had given him a glimpse of life, that she could have saved him. That means he's been confronted with the possibility and had it taken violently away from him. No, Jethro. I will not give up on freeing Timothy. I will take steps to keep my mother safe. If they'd like to kidnap the corgis, they're welcome to them." He smiled.

Gibbs smiled briefly but his expression remained grave.

"They might not stop with her."

"You mean they may move onto me or they may move onto you?"

"Either one."

"I'm willing to take that risk, Jethro. Are you?"

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"If it makes you feel any better, note, please, that they did not bring my mother to any harm and that they left her in easy reach of me."

"What if she hadn't thought to call you?"

"I've thought of that and it does frighten me which is why I'll make sure she is safe. I am no less determined, Jethro."

"Okay...but you be careful, and I don't want you staying at that house by yourself. If they do come after you, you're not going to be alone when it happens."

Ducky grinned. "Jethro, I didn't know you cared."

"I'm not kidding, Duck."

Ducky could see that very clearly, and he could see that flippancy wasn't the appropriate response right now.

"Neither am I, Jethro. Whether or not this most recent happening is due to Timothy, whether or not he could care less about it, I am not giving up on him. He is what he was made to be and I'm determined to set him free; so that he can be more than he is. So...will you be staying with me or will I be staying with you?"

Finally, Gibbs laughed. "Pack a bag, Dr. Mallard."

"I will do so."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

They didn't meet up again that night, but they passed on the information about what had happened with Ducky's mother and they were all quietly shocked. This wasn't what they had expected when they decided to try and help Tim. Not Ducky's mother of all people. This may be the way they worked: pick on the innocents, counting on the fact that they would fall in line...like Tim already had. Ducky made arrangements to place his mother in a retirement center for the time being. He knew it well because he'd already looked into it once. He spoke to the people there and explained the situation...to some degree. Then, he explained it to his mother although he knew she'd forget. Even with that contingency plan in place, it was still disquieting that they were now involved with people who seemed to have no morals.

Abby had planned on taking her time seeing if she could find Tim online somewhere, but she gave up on that idea. She figured that someone like him would be known, at least in gaming circles, but she would have to be patient because she'd have to find the right circle. This wasn't going to be something to take time on. Instead, she threw caution to the winds and found his email address from the information they had got during the investigation into Erin Kendall's murder.

_Hi, Tim McGee,_

_I'm Abby. I work at NCIS. Are you playing any online games? I'd like to go up against you._

She looked at it, wondered if she should say more, but then just sent it. They couldn't wait forever. They needed Tim to take a risk...like they were. Even if the risk was simply getting onto a gaming site and talking to her. She wanted to be sympathetic to Tim's plight, but Ducky was the one she knew and his mother had been targeted. Tim needed to help Ducky...because Ducky was trying to help him. That put another thought in her mind and she decided to add another email. Maybe Tim would be more likely to respond to something like that.

_One more thing. People are trying to help you and are risking themselves. Don't you care about that?_

_Abby_

She nodded to herself and then went home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stan stood on the front stoop of the McGee home. It was a modest dwelling, particularly for a rear admiral. At an O-8 rating, the McGees surely weren't hurting for money. Still, Stan wasn't sure if he should take anything from that. They could just be modest people with no interest in living large.

He knocked on the door and waited. The woman who opened the door was more than likely Loren McGee's wife. She had a cautious look in her eyes but she smiled.

"You must be Agent Burley."

Stan smiled back. "Ma'am."

"Come in. My husband is just in the study."

Stan stepped inside and looked around with an investigator's eye. There was a simple, clean look to this house, but they had clearly taken the time to invest in it. While the furnishings weren't obviously expensive, they were all of high quality. They weren't afraid of the money they had or of someone taking it.

"Agent Burley, welcome."

Stan turned from his contemplation of the house and nodded.

"Rear Admiral, thank you for inviting me."

"Just for tonight, I think we should drop the formalities. The conversation we'll be having isn't one that needs them. I'm Loren. This is my wife, Joan."

"I'm Stan."

"All right. I hope you took my invitation to dinner seriously, Stan, because Joan did cook a meal."

"I wasn't sure, but I came prepared," Stan said with an easy smile.

He saw some visible relaxing in the stances of the McGees and they led him back to an eat-in kitchen. He was actually surprised. He'd expected a formal dining room. Loren smiled as if he'd read Stan's mind.

"We have a more formal area for eating, but that's only when we have a large group. Joan and I always eat in here. Have a seat."

Stan sat and had a nice meal with Loren and Joan. They asked him about his work as an Agent Afloat, how he liked it, what his life was like. Not a word about their son. Stan could see that they were intentionally putting it off until after the meal and decided to let them dictate how the conversation would go. After that, they led him to their backyard. It was small and pleasantly landscaped with a water feature that gave some soft background noise.

"Now, Stan, you want to know about our son."

"Can you explain to me why?" Joan interjected.

"I don't know all the details," Stan said. "I wish I could tell you exactly what's going on, but I don't know. However, I trust Gibbs with my life and he's the one who asked me to do this. He and some others back in DC came into contact with your son and, somehow, they have discovered that he is working against his will and he has no way out...but wishes he did. They want to help him but they can't if they don't know how he got there."

"I'm not sure anyone _can_ help him," Joan said. "He's never asked us. Not once. The one time Loren suggested it, Tim refused to even consider it."

"So...what happened? How did he get into it?"

Loren and Joan exchanged looks. This was clearly a source of pain for them.

"I'm sorry that I need to ask this."

Joan shook her head.

"We haven't talked about it in a long time, but we did talk about it. A lot."

"Joan almost left me," Loren said, candidly. "Tim got pulled into DARPA because of me, my obsession with carrying on the McGee family tradition. We're Navy people, have been for generations. I'm the second admiral. I was determined to have Tim follow in my footsteps. He tried to tell me that it wasn't what he wanted but I wouldn't listen...until it was too late."

Stan was surprised at hearing all this. It wasn't what he had expected.

"Tim decided that the only way he could get out of being in the Navy was if the Navy didn't want him," Joan said. "So he decided to do something that would make the Navy not want him. He hacked DARPA."

"What? How old was he?"

"Seventeen. He'd been planning it for a year and he used our home Internet connection. I don't know how all that stuff works, but Tim does. He had wanted to go to MIT, but we said no. Loren was determined to have Tim keep up the tradition and I couldn't see any harm in it. The Naval Academy would let him work with computers, too. Tim didn't feel the same. He waited until Loren and I were gone to the Navy birthday party. Sarah was with friends. He was alone."

Loren took over the explanation.

"Tim told me that he had planned it that way so that no one else would be involved. He only wanted himself. He hacked into DARPA, looked around, made sure they saw him and got out. He didn't count on them being impressed."

Stan found himself engrossed in the story being told. He nodded and waited for more.

"The first thing we knew of what he'd done was when I got pulled into an impromptu meeting with the Secretary of the Navy, a man from DoD and Tim...in handcuffs. We were given two options. Tim had been caught, red-handed...which was his intention. They knew that he had done it. The options were that Tim go to prison for a very long time, possibly the rest of his life, or he work for DARPA. He chose DARPA. It wasn't prison. It was a job. He would get to work with computers. It seemed like the best option. A trial would have dragged us all down and Tim _was_ guilty. He admitted it. I didn't want to see my son go to prison, but I couldn't believe that he had felt so desperate that he was willing to do this just to stay away from the Navy."

"And I didn't forgive Loren for a long time," Joan said. "I was so angry that it was his family tradition that had taken our son away. He was gone for almost an entire month. Training, they said. Even after that, he was rarely home. He grew up almost overnight, it seemed. I blamed Loren for it. I think if it hadn't been for Sarah, I might have left right then, but we didn't want our daughter affected any more than she already had been. Then...it was clear to me that Tim didn't blame his father, that they were actually closer than they ever had been before. Tim helped me forgive Loren. We're much better than we were."

"What about your career?" Stan asked. "Were you held back by this? Threatened in any way?"

"No," Loren said. "No, I held myself back. I've done everything ever asked of me, but no more than that...and you don't excel by only doing what's asked. I had lost sight of my family because of my career and I was never going to make that mistake again. So I spent a lot more time with my family than I did thinking about my career. No one can fault my work, but no one sees any more than that...but I don't care anymore. I would never shirk my duties, but that's as far as my passion goes. I know that I could have been a vice admiral at this point...maybe even a full admiral, but I just can't want it." He shrugged. "Not now."

"What about your daughter?"

Joan smiled. "She was confused and angry that her brother was gone so much. As she got older and understood more what was going on...she became more angry and less confused. We had to caution her about being too outspoken. She's a true writer, I can tell you that. Her blog is fairly popular as far as these things go. So far, she's been studying English lit and creative writing, but I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to go into law. She wants to get Tim out of it. Loren would do anything if Tim asked him for help, but Tim has been _adamant_ about staying there. He hasn't been happy, but he had utterly refused to let us do anything help him. I think Sarah has some hope that she'll find something that will save him."

Stan was silent for a few seconds, digesting what Loren and Joan had told him. It was clear that no matter what Tim's situation was, it had drastically affected his entire family. It wasn't what he had expected. He hadn't known _what_ to expect, but it wasn't this.

"What do you know about his situation now?"

"Erin's death hit him really hard," Loren said. At Stan's blank expression, he elaborated. "His girlfriend. They worked together at DARPA. When he met her, it was the first time in years that I'd heard a smile in his voice. He loved her, and when she was killed, it was a blow. He even went so far as to admit that he wasn't happy with his work...but as soon as I suggested that we might be able to try something to get him out, he backed off. Said it was just the shock of Erin dying. Joan and I know that our son isn't happy, but we also know that he's refused to let us do anything. We don't know why and we can't ask why. We can only hope that this might end for him some day."

"Do you know something we don't?" Joan asked.

"I don't," Stan said. "I'm really just on the sidelines here, trying to help where I can. How long has it been since you visited him in person?"

Joan took a breath and looked at Loren. "How long has it been, Loren?"

"It's been a couple of years, Stan," Loren said.

"I can't say whether or not I'm right, but...maybe it's time to visit," Stan suggested. "I know Gibbs. He doesn't give up on these things. Something is going to happen. I don't know what it will be or how long it will take...but something's going to happen. If you can...it might be a good idea to be there for it."

"This...Gibbs..."

"NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Stan said with a smile. "You can look him up. He's...unorthodox. I worked with him for about five years. I owe him a lot, but he does take some getting used to."

"Would he speak to us?"

"He might, although I think they're worried about being watched. Have _you_ ever noticed any kind of observation?"

"No, never. I think I would have," Loren said. "Especially in the early days."

"I haven't, either," Joan said.

"Okay. It's your choice as to what you do next. I'm going to call Gibbs and let him know what you've told me. From here...all the action seems to be in DC and I'll shipping out soon."

Loren stood up and put out his hand. Stan also stood and shook his hand firmly.

"Stan, thank you. We've become so accustomed to being worried...being unhappy about Tim's situation that I think we've all forgotten that there's a possibility of things changing."

"With NCIS meddling, especially unofficially, things are going to change. How and to what degree, I don't know, but they won't leave things the way that they are."

"That could be a very good thing. Thank you."

"Thanks for dinner," Stan said with a smile. "It was delicious."

Joan stood and shook his hand as well.

"If things are as turbulent as you've implied, I hope you stay safe, Stan," she said.

"Oh, I'll be fine. I'm not important enough in this game, but thanks for your concern."

"Even so, Stan...I'll walk with you."

Stan accepted the concern with a nod. He _was_ surprised that Joan came with them, too. They walked with him out to his car. Loren even walked around it, inspecting it for tampering. Stan was interested in watching that. Then, it was almost like a mantle had draped across his shoulders.

"Thank you for coming by, Agent Burley. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Admiral McGee, ma'am."

Stan got into his car and drove back his temporary quarters. Ignoring the time, he called Gibbs and gave him the lowdown. It was a long conversation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stayed up late working on the project at DARPA. He had a little room that was his when he stayed for long periods of time. At around one a.m., he checked his email and saw that he had two from an Abby Sciuto. He read them and felt a bit irritated. Why was all this his fault? Wasn't enough already his fault? He clicked the reply button.

_Abby,_

_I did not ask for nor want any help from anyone. If you all would just do what I asked and leave it all alone, you wouldn't have to worry about it._

He paused. Did he want to carry this on?

_Elf Lord. The Ring of Lorraine. The Wilds of Tairat. Don't get killed on your way. 5:30 a.m. I'll stay online for half an hour._

He didn't really want to do this, but he would. He sent the message. If she didn't get it in time, too bad. He had already answered her questions. He wasn't sure why he was bothering to do anything more.

Still, it was done. He set his alarm and lay down to grab a few hours of sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

A tall, pale mage ran lightly through the land, toward the edge of the Wilds of Tairat. She hadn't been here for years and she was surprised at how much the land had changed in that time. It had taken some time for her to adjust to the differences and to remember all the things that went into this particular game.

She reached the Wilds and looked around. She couldn't see anyone; so she closed her eyes and cast a revealing spell. When she looked around again, she saw a dark shape standing in a tree.

_Elf Lord?_

_Your name?_

_In here, I am Soana._

_Lodhel, the Elf Lord._

The figure jumped out of a tree, revealing a tree elf with dark green skin and wild features. He had a strange covering. It seemed grafted onto the character. He walked to her and then stared at her for a while.

_And your name on the outside?_

_Abby. You're Tim?_

_Yes. _

_Why did you pick here?_

Lodhel looked around.

_This place is safe for me. I'm KoS most places here._

_Why?_

_Because I angered too many._

_Can we talk here?_

_I think it's safe enough, but there is not much to say. I said what I wanted. I did not ask for your help and I do not want it. Stop and you will be safe._

It was interesting how formally he typed as Lodhel. It wasn't as though everyone always did that in these games, but he certainly was. It was a little strange, actually.

_But you need it, don't you._

_I do not want it._

_You're not saying that you don't need it, though. Why not? It's not like I could insist that you do. So why don't you say it?_

Lodhel walked back to the trees and leapt up into the shadows. Soana ran after him and cast a wind spell that knocked the elf back to the ground. Lodhel turned, drew his sword and hefted it to strike her. The movement was strange. Soana stood her ground.

Abby typed quickly.

_Is that how you deal with contradiction? Killing the messenger? I expected more of you._

Lodhel stopped his attack and stood silently.

_Sure, it's only a game and I won't get hurt, but you're threatening me simply because I wouldn't let you avoid the conversation.  
>Is that really what you're like? I didn't think so.<em>

_I did not want you to come._

_Then, why did you make it a possibility?_

_Leave this alone.  
>You do not know what you could be getting into.<br>I am not innocent. This is my fault and I do not want any harmed because of it._

_It doesn't matter what you want because we're already doing it...and we're already being threatened._

_Who?_

_Ducky's mom.  
>She's got dementia and they took her away from her house and left her in a park.<br>We're lucky that she was lucid enough to call Ducky when she realized that she didn't know where she was._

_This is not my fault! I did not ask for it and I did not do it!_

_No, but why not help us help you?_

_I will not._

_Why not?_

_You cannot understand. In here, I am as I am out there._

There was a pause. Abby was ready to type more when he continued.

_ But I can fight...shackled as I am._

_Shackled?_

Lodhel took off that strange covering. He had chains around him, not as armor, but as restraints. The Ring of Lorraine allowed characters to be completely customizable, but she wondered how he had done it. It certainly wasn't normal for the characters available.

_I am shackled but I can fight back against any I choose.  
><em>_I am alone but it is because that is what I want.  
><em>_Sometimes, others come here and try to get rid of me.  
><em>_I am not guarding anything. This place is not useful. Thus, they usually leave it to me._

He covered his chains once more.

_You can fight out there, too! We'll help you! You don't have to be alone!_

_No. Out there, I am not alone and I cannot fight._

_If they're threatening your family, we can help._

_Do not promise what you cannot give.  
><em>_You do not know the people who are in control.  
><em>_Leave me as I am. It is what I know._

_It doesn't have to be!_

_Yes, it does. All power rests with them. I have none.  
><em>_I do what they want me to do."  
><em>_Stop what you are doing before someone is killed._

_We won't stop. Ducky won't stop.  
><em>_Ask him yourself. He won't.  
><em>_Please, take a chance._

_No. _

_Why not?_

_Because it is not my life that is in danger._

Then, Lodhel jumped up into the trees again and left Soana standing alone in the clearing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby sighed as she stared at her avatar standing alone on the screen. That hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped, but she wished that Ducky had been here to see what Tim had typed...and maybe give some suggestions of what to say. Tim had only barely broken character while chatting with her. If the situation had been anything else, she would have laughed at the melodrama. But underneath it all, there had been a common thread. He was not going to do anything to help himself. He had no intention of trying to get out. She wished that they had been talking with voice chat, but she hadn't thought of requesting that in time. Maybe he wouldn't have been willing to do that much anyway. Talking would have made their interaction more human and much more real.

Well, at least she could preserve what Tim had typed. She'd been making screenshots all during the conversation and she could show this to everyone else and let them see how determined Tim was _not_ to be helped. As she was looking through it again, she tracked in on the last thing Tim had written.

He wasn't staying out of this because of himself. It was because of other lives that were in danger. He wasn't going to save himself if he felt that it might hurt others...and there wasn't much question of who those others were.

It was very noble but Abby wished he'd knock it off. They were committed now, and they couldn't back out. So Tim might as well give in.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim logged off. He hadn't been in there for a while...not since he'd met Erin. He'd had better things to do than spend time in a fantasy world. The part of the world he had claimed for himself had remained mostly empty...but there weren't any treasures here. There was nothing of worth. Just a character who wanted to remain alone. It was a horrible coincidence that his character had also lost a woman. He had allied himself with an elf lady. He had not been strong enough to defend her in one of the battles and she had dropped him like a hot potato. He had taken himself to the Wilds to nurse his bruised ego and then had discovered that he preferred being alone. ...and he had enforced that solitude by attacking anyone who came into his area. Other gamers disliked him simply because he was unreasonable, but he hadn't bothered to make friends there, either.

Now, however, he had let someone come into his area and she had told him he should fight in the real world...and that the person who had wanted to help him was suffering for it. Tim looked at the monitor and then went into the records and cleared out any evidence of what he'd done...as he had numerous times over the years when he'd played these MMORPGs on the DARPA computers, taking advantage of the fast and secure connections they offered.

He had told her over and over again to leave him where he was, to let it lie, but he was beginning to see that they wouldn't. He didn't know why. He couldn't fathom a reason for why they wouldn't just let him do what he'd always done. He'd lived thirteen years like this. It wasn't as though he couldn't keep on that way.

He sighed. He couldn't protect them. He couldn't do anything for them. ...and yet, it was still, somehow, his fault.

Well, he couldn't leave DARPA right now. He was confined to this building for a few more days, and he didn't dare flaunt direct orders. This stuff he did online had never been expressly forbidden. He knew they'd say no if they found out...but if they didn't find out...

"You're up early, Tim."

Tim turned around.

"You're _here_ early, Mr. Orlen," he said.

"I didn't expect to see you here. What are you doing?"

"Just messing on around online. Playing some games."

Mr. Orlen looked at him with that same inscrutable expression. Tim had never been able to figure out what Mr. Orlen might be thinking at any given time. He said and did everything with very little emotion. He was always fair, but he never accepted refusals. When he said something, that was the way it was. No exceptions.

"You shouldn't be doing that. You could get into trouble."

Tim took a breath to calm his suddenly pounding heart.

"Only if you tell them," he said softly. "They won't know, otherwise."

"You're asking me to conceal something, Tim."

Tim felt the same curl of dread in his stomach that he had felt every time he'd gone into that horrible room. How many times could he go in there before they actually carried through on their threats? He was afraid that he was running out of chances.

"Please, Mr. Orlen. I wasn't doing anything wrong. Just playing around. Please, don't tell them. Don't make me go in there again."

Mr. Orlen stared at him without speaking for a long period of time and then, without any softening, without any change of expression, he stood aside.

"You don't need to be working this early, Tim. You should go and get some more sleep."

"Thank you," Tim whispered.

He got to his feet and almost scampered out of the room. He hurried back to the sleeping area that had been set up for him and curled up on the cot.

His life may not be in danger, but that didn't stop Tim from being terrified. ...and out here, he couldn't pull out a weapon or cast a spell and attack the people who scared him. He couldn't enforce solitude.

He was powerless.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I cannot condone what you're doing," Mr. Orlen said, looking at the three men sitting across from him. "It's one thing to keep him aware of the debt he owes the government for giving him a job rather than putting him in prison, but threats are a whole different matter."

"Threats keep him in line, Philip."

"Is that what you've been doing all these years? Just what threats have you given him that could make him so terrified of stepping into this room?"

"We've never caused harm to anyone."

"I understand that Dr. Mallard's mother was taken from her home."

"She wasn't hurt."

"But you didn't know that would be the case. This is going too far."

"What are you saying, Philip?"

"I'm saying that no one man's skills are worth this kind of effort." Mr. Orlen's brow furrowed. "Or is there another reason for keeping him here? Just what _did_ he see on that night when he hacked into ARPA?"

"You don't ask questions, Philip. Your job is to oversee him. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"I'm asking questions, now. I've never understood why were you so determined to have him working here, but he does have amazing skills that have only increased with time and use, but even taking that into account, it doesn't explain your insistence that we have him. It doesn't explain the need for threats that have a grown man acting like a child. What if he had refused? Would you have killed him?"

"There are parts of DARPA that _no one_ sees."

"And he saw them?"

"Yes."

"I won't ask what they are, but how determined are you to keep whatever he saw in there a secret?"

"I don't think you want the answer to that question."

Mr. Orlen raised an eyebrow and then nodded stiffly.

"He has complied with your every order. Tim does what he has to do, what is required of him in payment for not being prosecuted. You don't need to threaten."

"Yes, we do. We understand him better than you do. This meeting is over."

Mr. Orlen nodded and walked out of the room. He didn't go in there much and never when Tim had been in for those meetings, but he was starting to see, for the first time, a sinister side to his employers. Maybe it had always been there and he just had ignored it. Seeing Tim almost cowering in fear just because of the prospect of going into a room had started him thinking. These people had been at DARPA for longer than he had. He'd been hired by them, actually. This was the part of DARPA that was more than classified, more than top secret. The work they did didn't exist. He didn't even know what it was. He was the liaison between people who didn't exist and the rest of DARPA. Everyone knew him by sight. No one questioned when he showed up. And when there were projects that overlapped with the overt projects, he kept the non-existent parts separate and away from prying eyes. It was his job.

But now, he was wondering if he'd been working for the wrong people. He was starting to question the wisdom of what was being done.

And asking questions was dangerous.

Fatally dangerous.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Over the next couple of days, things slowed down a bit. They couldn't find Tim, but some careful looking around had revealed that his car was parked at DARPA...and had been for days. It seemed to indicate that Tim was not leaving, at least not for the time being. They didn't know if that was normal and, for the moment, they had no justification for asking.

They met in Gibbs' basement to go through what they knew. Gibbs told them what Stan had found out. When he finished Abby nodded in understanding.

"That's probably why he won't take any risks," she said. "He got burned by taking a risk once before and he doesn't dare try it again."

"It could also be that he is unwilling to risk the harm that could come to someone else because of what _he_ has done."

"I wish he'd stop it," Abby said with a grimace. "I mean, it's great that he's thinking of others and all, but can't he see that everyone would be safer if he wasn't involved with them at all?"

"Apparently not," Tony said. "If he could see that, he'd be first in line to get out...and he's not. He's not even _in_ line."

Ducky was looking through the screenshots Abby had saved.

"I find this whole persona he has created to be rather fascinating, actually," he said. "He has gone into a place many use as an escape from reality...but he has taken his reality with him. He has put chains on his character. He has made himself isolated from the other characters in the world, carving out a place for himself wherein no one is allowed to venture."

"And what meaning do you take from that, Ducky?" Ziva asked.

"There are two possibilities. He told Abigail that he has the same problems as he did in the real world but they were things he had done willingly. I suppose you could look at them as Timothy trying to say that he could control his own life, but at the same time, the only thing he has chosen to do is replicate his real life in a fantasy setting. It's almost as if he can't fathom any other situation and feels compelled to keep it the same, no matter where he is. The other possibility is that he's saying that, in this world, even with the same challenges, he can fight if he wants to...instead of being powerless as he is in reality."

"We can't get him out if he won't do something," Tony said. "I mean, it would be more like kidnapping than it would a rescue...even if it's what he needs. He very clearly told Abby that he didn't want any help. I mean, sure, he was an elf at the time, but still..."

"Until he leaves the building, we cannot do anything anyway," Ziva said. "I suppose we could break in, but that is a bit further than I think we are ready to go."

"If we do something that gets Tim free, it won't be by breaking the law," Abby said. "What they're doing to him is illegal. If we can get it out into the open, they won't be able to do anything, will they?"

"Not legally," Ziva said. "But I do not believe that we should break into a federal building to rescue someone who does not wish to be rescued."

"Yeah. I guess."

"We'll have to keep checking to see when he leaves."

"Any luck with the sketches Judy made?" Ducky asked.

"None. The men who came don't seem to be in any of our databases," Tony said. "We've got facial recognition going, but so far..."

"I was afraid that would be the case. These are not amateurs. They would not risk being seen if they hadn't disguised themselves somehow."

"Yeah," Abby agreed, reluctantly. "What about his parents?"

"I don't think that an admiral can just up and leave whenever he wants to. He probably had to arrange leave and is waiting for it to go through."

"How will we even know if they're coming?" Abby asked. "You said that Stan was going back out."

"He is," Gibbs said.

"Then, how will we know?"

"They'll call us."

"Will they, though?" Tony asked. "They may not dare."

Gibbs smiled. "They'll dare. He's their son."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim McGee?"

Tim looked up at the unfamiliar voice. He'd just finished up the last of the project they had wanted him working on full-time. It meant that he could go home...and do...something. Not that he had anything to look forward to out there. Still, it was normal for him. Now, there was someone here who was _not_ Mr. Orlen. That was _not_ normal.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Jack Dennis. I just got hired. I'm a gofer right now. I was supposed to tell you that you have a meeting in room 23."

Tim suppressed his fear and got up. He walked with Jack down the hall.

"Okay, here you are. I've got to run. I have another assignment already."

Tim managed to smile and gestured for him to go. He took a breath and stepped into the room.

What he saw was something he'd never seen before.

Mr. Orlen was there, sitting on a chair, flanked by two men Tim didn't know. Mr. Orlen said nothing, but there was actual emotion in his eyes. Tim looked at him and wondered what was going on. Mr. Orlen had never been in this room with him. Then, the nameless man he did know stepped forward. Tim focused on him instead.

"We have another problem, Tim," he said.

"But I haven't done anything! I've been working! I've been _here_! You know that!"

"Oh, but this is your fault."

"What is?" Tim asked, wondering what he'd done.

"Mr. Orlen, here, has been questioning...questioning your status. We don't tolerate questions and clearly you need a reminder that we don't."

Mr. Orlen didn't speak. He just sat where he was...but he was afraid. Tim could see that. He looked from Mr. Orlen to the man and back again. He didn't know what this was leading to, but he was terrified, terrified of what could be coming, of what they might do.

"But I haven't done anything!" Tim said again, his voice rising.

"It doesn't matter. If people try to change the situation, it's your fault. It's always your fault."

Before Tim could say anything, one of the men pulled out a gun, put it to the back of Mr. Orlen's head and shot him, point blank. Tim fell back with a shout as blood flecked on his face and clothes. Mr. Orlen's body fell to the floor. Tim stared at him in utter shock, his mouth opening without speaking any words. Sounds came out but nothing else.

The man gestured.

"Come over here, Tim."

Tim couldn't move.

"Do you want someone else to suffer, Tim? This is your fault, remember."

Tim couldn't speak, but his legs finally moved. He walked to the man.

"Don't step in the blood, Tim."

Tim's stomach roiled and he felt sick.

"Take the gun."

Tim put out his hand and the other man gave the gun to him. He held it in his hand.

"Good. Now, you killed him."

"What?" Tim whispered.

"Your fingerprints are now on this gun. It was your fault to begin with and now, people will think that you did it because it's your fingerprints on the gun. Keep that in mind. No one will miss him. His body won't be found unless you give us a reason to expose it. ...and don't forget the lesson here. We'll kill to keep our secrets, Tim. What if it had been your father here? Do you want to be responsible for his death, too?"

Tim shook his head, mutely. He could almost _see_ his father's body on the floor instead of Mr. Orlen. It could be him. It almost could be him right now. Tim felt like his brain was ready to meltdown. There was so much going on inside his head. He was almost hyperventilating.

"Good. I trust that you're aware of the situation and the fact that we're not letting it change?"

Tim nodded, shakily.

"Good. I'll take the gun back now."

Tim held out the gun, barely hearing anything that was being said but obeying the orders given to him, nevertheless. He couldn't stop staring at the spreading blood on the floor, the blood oozing out of Mr. Orlen's head. ...because Mr. Orlen was dead. ...because he'd just been shot. Tim had seen people dead before, but he'd never seen anyone die. ...especially not when it was his fault.

The gun vanished from his hand and he stood there, staring down at the floor.

"I think we're done with you, for now. I think you should go home and think about what all this means."

Tim didn't move.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Tim. Go home. Leave here. We don't need you here at the moment."

Tim backed away from the three men...and Mr. Orlen's body. He backed away until he ran into the doorknob. The pain jarred him out of his shock for a moment and he turned around, opened the door and left the room.

He was almost surprised to see that everything still looked the same out in the hallway. He didn't feel the same. He could barely focus on anything. He couldn't think. He couldn't comprehend the world he was facing. He looked around and then ran to the exit, left the building and got into his car.

He started to drive, but he didn't know where he was going.

Away. That's the only thing he could think of. Away. Away from the body, away from the blame. Just away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Loren put a comforting arm around Joan's shoulders as they sat, waiting for their flight. It had taken some time to get things arranged, such that Loren could leave the base. He had taken a full week off, not knowing what might happen in that amount of time.

"What are we going to be able to do, Loren?" Joan asked softly.

"Maybe nothing, but we can be there for him, at least."

"He hasn't answered his phone."

"Sometimes, he can't. We know that. He told us that he was in one of his full-time work phases. We can get a hold of him, eventually."

"What if he still won't listen?"

"We'll do what we can. That's all we _can_ do, but maybe, this time, we can do _something_, instead of letting him continue to sacrifice for us."

"I just want something to make this over, Loren. I don't want this to go on."

"I don't, either. I just don't know what to do to stop it...but we're going to figure it out."

Joan leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"How could we have become used to this?"

"I guess you can adjust to anything given enough time."

"Not anything."

Loren nodded. "You're right. Not anything. I don't think Tim's ever fully adjusted to whatever he's dealing with."

"I don't, either."

"We're going to help him this time, Joan. We're going to help Tim as much as is possible."

Joan nodded and they tried to be patient while they waited for their flight to be called. ...and although neither of them said it, both were hoping that what they could do would be enough.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky and Gibbs pulled up to Ducky's house and they got out. Ducky was coming to get more clothes and perhaps some of his books to distract him during his sojourn at Gibbs' house.

"You know, Jethro, perhaps it would be better to stay here. My house is much more comfortable than yours."

"Yours has too many ways in and out," Gibbs said as they walked inside. "We found that out once before."

"Yes, but..."

Ducky paused and looked around.

"What is it?"

"Someone has been in here, Jethro."

Gibbs pulled out his gun, instantly on guard.

"Can you smell that?" Ducky asked.

There was a faint whiff...of something unpleasant.

"NCIS!" Gibbs shouted.

There was nothing for a few seconds...and then, they both heard running footsteps. Gibbs took off in the direction of the sounds. Ducky was coming behind, but not quite as quickly.

"Federal agent! Stop where you are!" Gibbs ordered.

The person did _not_ stop. He got out the back door and was fleeing across the lawn...until Gibbs caught up and took him down, twisting one arm around behind his back and pressing his face down into the ground.

Then, for the first time, the intruder spoke.

"It wasn't me! I didn't do it! I didn't! I promise that I didn't!"

Ducky blinked in surprise. He knew that voice.

"Jethro, let him up! It's Timothy!"

Gibbs started to loosen his hold, but Tim started to struggle again and he redoubled his grip.

"Stay where you are, McGee," he said.

Ducky hurried over and knelt down.

"Timothy, it's all right. Relax. Don't try to run."

Tim didn't respond, but he did stop fighting against Gibbs' grip on him. When Gibbs cautiously let him go, he sat up and looked at them both. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. His clothes were rumpled and there was an unpleasant odor wafting off them.

"I didn't do it!" he said, frantically. "I didn't. I know I didn't. I didn't."

"Didn't do _what_, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

Seeing Tim _here_ of all places, and in this state, was the last thing he'd expected. They'd noticed that his car was no longer at DARPA, but they hadn't found it, yet. The car definitely wasn't here. How Tim had come to be here was just as much a mystery as _why_.

"I didn't...but...but they said...and I...I couldn't have...but it was...and...I...I didn't!"

"Timothy, what didn't you do?" Ducky asked.

"I didn't kill him! I didn't kill him! I didn't do it!" Tim whispered...and then dropped his head and covered his face with his hands.

Ducky looked at Gibbs in shock.

What did he mean?


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Ducky gently touched Tim's arm and noticed that Tim was literally shaking. Gibbs had stood up and was looking around, clearly on guard for any intruders. Ducky considered what would be best to do. That Tim was terrified and nearly out of his mind was clear. The question was how far gone was he and was this permanent.

"Timothy, why don't you come inside with us?" Ducky asked. "I'll make some tea and you can tell us about what happened."

"I don't want to...go into the room. Never again. Not again. I don't want to go in there," Tim said.

"You won't. We're just going into the kitchen. All right?"

Tim looked up at him again, stared for a moment and then nodded jerkily.

"Good. Come on, then. Jethro? Some assistance?"

Gibbs nodded and leaned over to help Tim up, but Tim looked at his gun and freaked out. He pulled away, almost crabbing walking backwards in his efforts to escape. He didn't say anything, but he was even more terrified than he had been. Ducky grabbed hold of Tim's arm and was surprised when Tim actually huddled against him...trying to get away from Gibbs and his gun.

"It's all right, Timothy. Jethro's not going to hurt you." Tim just whimpered and shook his head with his eyes closed. Ducky looked at Gibbs. "Can you put the gun away for now?"

Gibbs looked around the yard once more and nodded. He holstered his gun and then approached again.

"Timothy, see? You're fine. You're safe here."

Tim opened his eyes and looked at Gibbs. He flinched a bit but didn't resist when Gibbs helped him up. He wobbled a bit on his feet but walked under his own steam. Ducky led him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table. Tim was still shaking, but he stayed where Ducky had directed him. Gibbs looked at Ducky for a moment and then walked out of the room to make a call. Ducky started getting things out for tea. Every sound made Tim jump a little. As soon as the water was on the stove, Ducky sat down beside Tim.

Tim was staring at the table vacantly.

"Timothy?"

"I didn't do it," he whispered. "...but it's my fault...but I didn't do it."

"Timothy, what are you doing in my home?"

"I called first. No one was here. No one would know. I didn't...I didn't do it."

Now that he was getting a better look at Tim, he noticed a number of stains on his clothes that looked very much like old blood...and perhaps more.

"How did you get here?"

"I drove...and drove...and then, I didn't want to drive anymore. I got out of the car...and I...I don't know. I came here."

That was likely all he'd get from Tim until he was calmer. Ducky decided that how didn't matter so much as why.

"Why did you come here?"

"No one was here...no one would know. I didn't take anything. I promise."

"I don't think you did, lad," Ducky said, smiling a little.

"I didn't...touch anything...but I went into the bathroom and...and I...I started to wash the blood off my face." Tim swallowed hard and closed his eyes again. "...but I felt sick. I threw up. I didn't...I didn't mean to...to make a mess..." Another swallow.

Ducky could see the signs. Quickly he grabbed his kitchen garbage and brought it over.

"It's all right, Timothy."

"I cleaned it up. I tried to get rid of the...the...mess."

Then, Tim made the sounds that heralded another mess. Ducky brought up the garbage can and turned Tim toward it as he started to heave. Tim threw up and didn't miss the garbage can.

"I'm not worried, Timothy," Ducky said softly when Tim was done. "Whatever you missed, I can easily clean up myself. How long have you been here?"

Tim was almost crying and he shook his head.

"I don't know."

The teakettle started to whistle and Tim jumped at the sound.

"It's just the water boiling," Ducky said gently.

He got up from the table and walked over to his tea cupboard. He decided against any of the black or oolong teas. Tim was wound up enough. He needed to calm down, and caffeine definitely wouldn't help him. He decided on making linden flower tea. That had relaxing effects, plus it had been known to help with digestive problems. Tim probably wasn't really sick, but it could calm his stomach as it calmed his mind.

He put the linden flowers into his teapot and then poured the boiling water over them. Taking care not to make any loud noises that would startle Tim anew, Ducky quietly got out tea cups and put them on a tray along with the teapot. Then, he brought them to the table and set them down.

"You're safe here, Timothy," he said, keeping his voice low. "Don't worry."

"I can't...stop...seeing it. ...and it's my fault. ...but I didn't do it...I just...had the...the gun and...all that blood on the floor. I...I can't go back...ever...can't see that again...and...but...I have to...but...I don't want to." He closed his eyes again and shook his head.

"You don't have to go back," Ducky said firmly. That much he was sure of. Whatever had happened had pushed Tim over the edge and Ducky wouldn't allow him to go back.

Gibbs came back into the room, his gun out of sight. Ducky raised his eyebrows and Gibbs nodded. The others had been told...discreetly. They would have to figure out how best to keep Tim safe because a bunch of people descending on the Mallard home right now would be a giveaway.

The three sat silently while the linden flowers steeped in the water. Even Gibbs seemed content to stay quiet. Tim was still shaking and he had started staring at the table again. What was clear, though, is that they wouldn't be able to get the whole story out of Tim until he was calmer. He had given information but in such a disjointed fashion that it was hard to understand what he meant.

After a few minutes, Ducky poured the tea, even including Gibbs. Gibbs raised an eyebrow with a bit of a smile. Ducky just grinned and poured.

"Timothy, would you like some honey in your tea?"

A shaky nod. Ducky gave it a dollop and slid the tea over into Tim's view.

"There you go."

For a few seconds, Tim didn't move. Then, a hesitant, shaking hand reached out and picked up the cup. Tim's head lifted and he brought the tea to his lips and sipped. No one spoke for about twenty minutes. Tim was still hunched over, afraid of whatever he had seen, but his shaking had eased considerably.

"Timothy?"

"Yeah?"

A response to a question was good, no matter how brief.

"How are you feeling?"

Tim shrugged.

"Are you tired?"

Another shrug.

"Come then, lad. Why don't you take a rest? Whatever you have to say will keep until later, I'd wager."

"I slept on the floor," Tim said. "I didn't touch your things."

Ducky was surprised at that. Tim had been here longer than he'd thought.

"I'm inviting you to sleep in a bed, Timothy. You're not intruding."

He urged Tim to his feet, gently peeled his fingers off the teacup and then led him to a spare room. He sat Tim down on the bed and then eased him down. Tim curled into a fetal position as Ducky put the blanket over him.

"That's right, lad. Just relax. Rest. You're fine. You're safe."

Tim's eyes closed, but he was far from relaxed. Ducky hesitated a moment. This might be too close contact for Tim. It wasn't as though they were close at all...but then, how long had it been since Tim had let someone comfort him? He reached out and rubbed Tim's back. Tim tensed up first but then gradually started to relax. For a while, there was no sound. Tim was almost asleep when he suddenly jerked, almost to wakefulness.

"You're safe, Timothy. It's all right."

Tim relaxed and in moments, he was asleep. Ducky stayed silent for a few more minutes, making sure that Tim was really sleeping. Then, he sighed and looked back at Gibbs who was standing in the doorway. He gestured to another chair. He didn't want to leave Tim alone. Not now.

"What did he say?" Gibbs asked, keeping his voice low.

"Not much, I'm afraid, and even less that was coherent," Ducky said. "He said that he didn't kill whoever it was but that it was his fault. There's blood on his clothes. He said it was on his face as well. Spatter...more than blood."

"You're saying a head shot?"

"Possibly. Impossible to say for sure without tests...or a body."

"If so...he couldn't have killed the person," Gibbs said. "He'd have to have much longer arms."

Ducky smiled. "Agreed. He said nothing about who the victim is. He also apparently couldn't remember how he got here."

"We may not be particularly safe staying here, Duck," Gibbs said. "If he's in hiding, that means that they're looking for him. We can't stay here forever."

"We can stay here long enough. Timothy will likely be better after he wakes up. We can get him out of here if you think he'll be safer elsewhere."

"The question is...will he be willing to let you help him when he's in his right mind."

"He's already come to me for help. I'm not going to let him go back to a place that has terrified him to this extent."

"We'll need to explain that to _him_."

"What about you?"

"Stan called in a favor, says that I owe him big. The McGees are on their way over here, right now. Abby is seeing if she can get into the airlines and find their itinerary. Tony and Ziva are going to the airport to see if they can meet them. I wouldn't put it past these guys to try and intercept the McGees."

"What about his sister?"

"We decided to send Lee to bring her to NCIS until we can get together."

"You're trusting Agent Lee?"

"She won't stand out at Waverley."

"True."

"And Tony's going to call the retirement home and make sure that no one can get to your mother."

"Who are these people, Jethro?" Ducky asked. "What is it that allows them such freedom to do these things?"

"That's what we're going to find out. McGee needs to help us."

"Perhaps this is the time to get his help. He's been shocked out of his former state, to the extent that he broke into my home. This is not normal behavior. I may not know Timothy well, but I would guess that he has not behaved out of character _ever_ since he has worked for DARPA."

"We'll have to see, and I don't want to give up on him, but if he's giving up on himself..."

"We won't let him."

Gibbs nodded.

"I'm going to clear the area."

Ducky nodded and resumed his place, guarding Tim as he slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Michelle Lee was not an experienced agent. She wasn't sure she _liked_ being a field agent. It was just so different for her, and law made so much more sense.

...but right now, she was searching for Sarah McGee, not knowing her at all, having only a picture, and being told that this was something completely secret and she had to convince Sarah to come with her. This was not what she had thought she'd signed up for. Still, it was a little bracing that Gibbs was actually trusting her with something like this. She'd never really felt part of the group.

There she was.

"Sarah!" Michelle called out and waved as if she knew her.

Sarah turned and looked at her with something akin to suspicion.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Michelle hurried over so that she could be closer and talk more softly.

"My name is Michelle Lee. I work for NCIS."

"The Navy? Why are you here? What do you want with me?"

"It's about your brother."

"Tim? Is something wrong? Last I talked to him, he was going to be working at DARPA 24-7 for a while."

"I don't know everything, but we're worried that the people your brother works for might start targeting his family."

"Why?"

"He just showed up at Dr. Mallard's house and we're hoping that we'll be able to do something to get him out."

Sarah stopped in her tracks. "Out? You mean...forever?"

"Yes."

"Sign me up! Where do I go? When will we get there?" she asked.

She grabbed Michelle's arm. Michelle was surprised at how excited she was. She had expected more suspicion.

"Have you talked to my parents yet?"

"No. We don't know when they're going to get here."

"I know! They're getting here this afternoon." Sarah paused. "I...I kind of promised Tim that I wouldn't ever upset my life for him...but I think that I'm going to say, forget that promise. I'm totally blowing off my classes. This is way more important. Let's go!"

Michelle laughed a little. "Okay. Let's go. I'll call my boss and you can tell him when your parents are coming."

"Okay! Great!"

Michelle let Sarah almost drag her away from the campus. That had been easier than she expected.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up with a kind of blunt feeling. He didn't want to think about what had happened, but it was right there at the front of his brain. Instead, he pushed away the emotion attached to it and tried to ignore the shock that hit him anew.

"Timothy."

Then, he suddenly remembered where he was and who had been here. He sat up quickly and looked around.

"You're all right, Timothy. You're safe here."

Tim looked around again. There was Ducky sitting on a chair, looking at him calmly. Tim shook his head.

"No. I-I shouldn't be here."

"Where should you be, then, Timothy? The place you ran from...coming here?"

"Yes. I have to." Tim started to get up.

...and was surprised when Ducky stopped him.

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault!" Tim said. "It's my fault and I can't let that happen again. Not again." The memory welled up in his mind again. Mr. Orlen...and... "Never..."

"Why do you say it's your fault, Timothy? Because they told you that?"

"Yes!" Tim said.

"Well, it's wrong. _They_ are wrong. _You_ are wrong for believing them. You told me that a man was killed. Is that true?"

Tim closed his eyes. All that blood...

"Yes," he whispered.

"And you did not pull the trigger."

"No."

"Then, it's not your fault."

"Yes, it is!"

"Why? Tell me why it is that it has to be your fault."

"He was asking...questions...about me...and they can't have questions. So they killed him because of me."

There was some silence. Tim chanced opening his eyes and looking at Ducky. The expression he saw could only be called pitying.

"No, Timothy. It's not your fault just because they say it is."

"It could have been my dad there. They said that it could have been him," Tim said...and it was so easy to imagine.

"All the more reason to stay away."

"No. They can do whatever they want to do and they could..." Tim didn't even want to finish the thought.

Ducky smiled at him.

"Timothy, they are not all-knowing. They are not all-powerful. If these are the same men who have controlled your life, I can understand your fear of them...but you have a chance to escape them now."

"I can't," Tim said. "They'll find my family. They'll..."

"We're already taking steps to protect them, Timothy."

"It won't work!" Tim said. "They can... They'll find..."

"Timothy, listen to me. Really listen, just for a moment. All right? I realize that you're afraid, that you're still suffering from the shock of whatever you witnessed, but listen to me. Will you?"

"Okay."

"This murder that you saw is _not_ your fault. These people cannot change reality with their words. You didn't kill him and that means it is not your fault. You didn't tell them to do it. You were clearly shocked by the violence. You did _not_ kill anyone. You are _not_ at fault here. Your family will not pay the price. You can be free, Timothy...as you want to be."

"I don't know if...if I can..."

"Let yourself believe?"

Tim nodded.

"Abigail told me about the chains you put on your character in that game. Why do that in a world you can make for yourself?"

"It's all there is," Tim said. "I brought it on myself. I don't deserve to get away."

"Yes, you do," Ducky said. "Timothy...you _do_. You deserve to be free. Is that what you want?"

Tim shook his head, not because he didn't want it, but because the thought of it almost gave him a physical pain.

"Answer me, Timothy. Just this once. Do you want to be free?"

The answer was right there. It had been there from the first moment he had realized that he was still in a prison. He had simply hidden from it, knowing that it could never happen. Or if it could, the price was too high. Now, Ducky was telling him to voice it, to admit to what he wanted. Tim was afraid of saying it, afraid that the very act of admitting what he wanted would lead to swift retribution.

"I'm the only one here, Timothy. No one else will hear. Do you want to be free?"

Tim closed his eyes again and saw Mr. Orlen's body on the floor. He could almost see his father there instead.

"Yes," he said and started to cry. "I want to be free."

"Then, we'll help you," Ducky said. "We'll help you get free...and be safe."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Gibbs got off the phone with Michelle and he had to admit that he was surprised she had, first of all, agreed to do what he told her, and second, succeeded so easily in getting Sarah to trust her. Maybe Tim's family hadn't suffered from fear, merely worry for their son and brother. So much the better, he supposed.

He went back to the spare room and paused in the doorway. This Tim McGee was very different from the one they'd seen before...or maybe not. He had extreme emotions inside of him that had come out when Erin had been killed. Maybe the tears he was expressing now were merely extensions of that.

He cleared his throat. Tim jerked his head up and looked at Gibbs warily. His eyes were on the gun in Gibbs' holster. He was afraid of the gun. Terrified of it.

"We need to clear out of here. You ready to do that?" he asked Ducky.

"I believe so. I just need to grab some clothes. I'm sorry, Timothy, that I don't have any that would fit you. You're much too tall."

"I could just go to my apartment and..."

"No," Gibbs said. "We're not going to risk it."

"Aren't you already taking a risk by helping at all?" Tim asked.

"Yes, and we're not going to compound it by letting you go to a place where you're sure to be seen."

Tim dropped his head and nodded docilely.

"Is your house going to be any safer?" he asked softly.

"They seem to have targeted Ducky, not anyone else."

"Oh..." Tim stared at the floor. "That _is_ my fault."

"Why would you say that, Timothy?"

"Because I told them about you. When they asked me. I told them that you were the only one who had paid attention."

"That's all right, Timothy. Really. It's fine. No one was hurt."

"You're about the same size as DiNozzo. I'll have him bring you something," Gibbs said.

Tim still didn't alter his posture of dejection. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Ducky. _This_ was a far cry from the confrontational man they'd met before. It was as if he'd been completely defeated. Ducky just shrugged and urged Tim to stand up.

"Let's go, Timothy."

Gibbs could still smell the rather rank odor coming from Tim's clothes. He needed to get clean. Soon. But he could also see those stains that would need to be analyzed. As Ducky led Tim past Gibbs, Tim shied away. While he was much more connected with reality, he was clearly not quite there yet. Gibbs guessed that it was because of witnessing the murder, but why was just the appearance of a gun making him afraid?

They left Ducky's house, and Tim got into the back seat of the car and ducked down low enough that no one could see that there was a third person in the car.

"Timothy, I don't think that you need to do that."

"So you say," Tim whispered. "They'll see..."

"Just leave it, Duck," Gibbs said in a low voice. There was no point in telling Tim about reality. He was too afraid at the moment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They drove back to Gibbs' house and hustled Tim inside. Gibbs sent Ducky and Tim down to the basement and even Tim's fear couldn't stop him from looking around with interest.

"A boat?" he asked.

"Jethro builds them in his spare time," Ducky said.

"How does he get them out?"

Ducky chuckled. "That's his little secret. No one knows for sure...we only know that he does."

Tim nodded.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To keep you safe. Jethro feels better when he's in his own space. He knows the lay of the land, so to speak."

Gibbs came down and Tim jumped again. Ducky put a calming hand on his back.

"It's all right."

Tim looked a little embarrassed which was a good sign for his mental stability. He was thinking about how he was reacting. Slowly, but surely, he was recovering from his terror.

"Now, McGee, can you tell us what happened?"

Tim instantly tensed up. Ducky could see his anxiety about the event.

"We need to know, Timothy," he said.

Tim took a breath and nodded. He sank down onto a stool and stared at the floor. Ducky could tell that he wasn't seeing the floor. He was seeing something else.

"Take it slowly."

"I was working," Tim said. His voice was soft, shaky. "I'd been there for a few days. It happens sometimes. They need all my time. I pack a bag and there's a cot there I can sleep on. I was almost done. I'd be leaving soon...but I didn't really have anywhere to go to. Just home. Someone came and...and got me. It wasn't Mr. Orlen. It was always Mr. Orlen, but it wasn't that time."

Tim swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment. Ducky wasn't sure he'd continue. He was about to say something, but Gibbs stopped him. He shook his head. Tim needed to get all this out. Now, not later on.

"He said he was a new hire. He took me to that room. I hate that room. I've always hated that room. Every time I go in...I have to see them and they tell me what could happen. This time...when I went in...Mr. Orlen was there. On a chair. Mr. Orlen was never in the room. Only _they_ were. He never said a word. He looked at me, but he didn't say anything. He was afraid. They said that he'd been asking questions. About me. That wasn't allowed. He should have known that...and I needed a reminder of what could happen if I let people do that. If I let them...ask."

He stopped talking again. He was staring very hard at the floor and he'd started shaking again.

"What happened, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"They shot him. In the head. Right there. He was so...close to me... The blood got on me. ...and then...they gave me the gun. I was holding it...and they said that it was my fault that he was dead because he was asking questions about me. They said it before but they never...killed anyone before...not when I was watching. My fingerprints are on the gun. I killed him...because they said so. He was just lying there on the ground. Dead. A big blood stain on the floor. He was...dead."

"What happened, then?" Ducky asked.

"They told me to leave, to remember that it could have been my father on the floor. Dead. I have to remember that if people try to figure things out about me, it's my fault if something happens to them. I was supposed to go back, but I...I didn't. I couldn't...I left and I didn't know where to go. I just...just drove and drove and drove...until I didn't want to anymore. I just started walking. I was near where you lived, Dr. Mallard. I called and you weren't there. I went there so that I could hide...and it wouldn't hurt you. You weren't there. I'm sorry I made a mess. I just wanted to get the blood off my face."

"Timothy?"

Tim was still staring at the floor.

"Timothy."

"I've never seen someone get killed before," he said, the horror evident in his voice. "I saw Erin dead. That was bad enough. I've never seen anyone die. ...and it's my fault."

"It's _not_ your fault," Gibbs said flatly. "You didn't kill him. They shot him, not you."

"How can you be sure?" Tim asked. "All you have is what I told you. I could be lying."

"Because you have blood and brain matter on your clothes," Gibbs said. "You couldn't have that on you in that pattern if you were holding the gun."

Tim's hands moved to his clothes and rubbed at them for a few seconds.

"It's still my fault."

"No, it's not," Gibbs said.

"If I weren't there..."

"Someone else would be and it would have been the same. I don't care how many times they told you it was your fault. It's not true, McGee. They can't change reality just by saying so."

"He's still dead," Tim said softly.

"Yes, he is...and if he was one of the people making you feel like this, then, good riddance."

Tim lifted his head and shook it violently.

"No! No, it can't work like that! He didn't deserve to die! Not like that! He wasn't...nice, but he wasn't cruel. He just was there."

"Letting it happen," Gibbs said.

Tim shook his head. "You don't know them. You don't. They...They can...do things that are...it's... Mr. Orlen wasn't like them."

"Maybe, maybe not," Gibbs said. "But it doesn't matter because what you're saying is that these people have committed murder, threatened you and threatened your family. Those are all crimes...and what I'm seeing from you is evidence of psychological torture."

"They never hurt me," Tim said.

"No. They just manipulated you until you believe that they're all-powerful, that whatever they say is true...and they did it through threats of violence and an actual act."

Ducky was impressed. Gibbs was rarely so talkative...but he was right and while Ducky himself would have been gentler about it, Gibbs was at least trying to force Tim to say that these men were wrong because he hadn't yet.

"But it was my fault."

"No," Gibbs said. "It's not the fault of the victim when his attackers hurt someone else. Why are you so important to them?"

"I do a lot of work," Tim said.

"And you hacked into DARPA."

Tim nodded.

"Why are you so important? You said you get paid. You get time off. You're treated like an employee most of the time. They could hire someone without having to threaten them. What makes you so important for them to control?"

Tim just stared at him. It was as if he'd never thought about it...and a thought struck Ducky.

"Timothy...what did you see when you hacked in DARPA all those years ago?"

Gibbs looked at him, his mind obviously on the same track as Ducky's.

Tim's gaze shifted back to the floor.

"It was a long time ago," Tim said softly.

"I know, but think about it. What did you see?"

"I wasn't in there very long. I just wanted to make sure they knew I was there."

"And it worked, I know."

"I looked at some space stuff. They do some space-based research. It was interesting."

"Is that all?"

"No. After I looked at those, I just hopped into a bunch of others."

"Like?"

"I don't remember." He said the words, but he wouldn't look at them.

"All right." Ducky could see Tim's mind was still a bit blown by what he'd witnessed. "Jethro, do you have something softer than your floor that Timothy could sleep on for a while? I think he needs it."

Tim said nothing either for or against that plan.

Gibbs nodded and gestured upstairs. They couldn't stay down here forever. Ducky accepted that, perhaps, it was best not to start that way. They took Tim upstairs and settled him on the couch. Tim fell asleep almost instantly.

"Well?" Ducky asked.

"He must have seen something, Duck. I hadn't thought about it until you said it, but there's no reason for them to hold on to him this long and take these risks if he didn't know something he shouldn't know."

"Or they _think_ he knows something."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Perhaps his family will be able to be of service in helping him open up."

"Tony is going to bring him some clothes. Said that he'd love to."

Ducky chuckled at Gibbs' tone. "Were the McGees there yet?"

"Not yet. Lee is going to be there with Sarah McGee. Apparently, she was all for it."

"Well, that's something, I suppose. Jethro, all these years of torment and he didn't even realize what they were doing. I think that, while unfortunate, this Mr. Orlen's death was a blessing. They went too far, pushed his mind too far, and he couldn't deal with what they'd done. All these years of careful nudging in the right direction. What made them take this sudden leap to lethal violence?"

"Maybe Orlen was the one keeping things subtle."

"And when they decided he was dangerous to them; they decided to use him as an example, in the hopes of controlling Timothy still further. ...only it didn't work."

"It did work," Gibbs said. "Only we're not letting it work. He'd be back there already, more convinced than ever that he has to do what they want. He still believes what they told him."

"It's his fault just because they said it was," Ducky said softly. "I wish we could have seen him in less tragic circumstances. He first came into our view..."

"...with Kate."

"Caitlin? What do you mean?"

"He was at her funeral. Abby said he was friends with her."

"Oh, dear. His experiences with NCIS have not been positive ones, have they."

"No."

"Well, then, this is our chance to improve them...and improve his life in general."

"If we can."

"Yes. If we can."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tony, what did you buy him?" Ziva asked as they stood waiting for the McGees to arrive.

Sarah was standing with Michelle, talking to her avidly, all the while craning her neck to see over the heads of the taller people in the crowds.

"Just some clothes."

"Yes, but it took you quite some time."

"I had to drive, Ziva," Tony said. "It takes time."

"Not that much time."

"What are you accusing me of?"

"What did you buy him?"

"Hey," Tony said innocently. "I would never kick a guy when he's down. I got him normal clothes. Just some sweat pants, a pair of jeans, and some shirts. Nothing fancy, nothing mean. No dirty sayings on the shirts."

Ziva raised her eyebrows eloquently.

"Okay, okay. It's not a dirty saying, though. It's funny! ...at least, I think it is."

"You think? Is it in another language?"

"Yes. Computer geek."

"I did not know that was a language."

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled the t-shirt out of the bag. She looked at it.

"'There is no place like 127 . 0 . 0 . 1'? What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but it's definitely a computer thing. I'm guessing that means 'home'."

"Why?"

"Because of the _The Wizard of Oz_. If you haven't seen it, go watch it."

Ziva smiled. "Right now?"

"No," Tony said and then noticed Sarah waving. "...because the McGees are here."

Ziva nodded and the joking was over. Quickly, they walked over to the couple coming out of the secure area of the airport.

"Rear Admiral McGee? Mrs. McGee?" Tony asked.

"Yes. Who are you?"

Tony and Ziva both pulled out their badges.

"Agent DiNozzo and Officer David. We're with NCIS."

"And you work with?"

"Agent Gibbs. We're supposed to take you both to his house where your son is. Your daughter is just over there with Agent Lee."

"We didn't check any bags. Just carry-ons," Joan said.

The admiral, however, put out his hands for their IDs. He checked them carefully, comparing the pictures with their faces. Tony was glad for his caution. Sarah hadn't shown _any _from what Michelle had said.

"All right, Agent DiNozzo, let's go."

Tony smiled at the command in his voice. This was definitely an admiral, used to giving orders.

"Yes, sir," he said.

They walked over to Michelle and Sarah. Sarah hugged her mother tightly and then they went on their way. Tony and Ziva, by unspoken consent, were on guard. They didn't know _who_ to look out for, but anyone paying too much attention would get some attention in return. They got safely out of the airport. Ziva went with Sarah and Michelle while Tony drove the Joan and Loren. At first, it was quiet in the car.

"How is he?"

"I haven't seen him, Admiral," Tony said. "He's safe because he's got Ducky and Gibbs watching out for him. They won't let anything happen. ...and if Abby gets involved, no one has a chance."

"Abby?"

"Abby Sciuto. She's our forensic scientist and she's...unique."

"Why are you are all helping him?" Joan asked. "If the risks are as bad as we've been told, why are _you_ all taking this risk? You don't even know him."

"Well, I'll admit it," Tony said. "I'm involved because Gibbs asked me to be involved...but I'm happy to help someone who's stuck in a situation he can't get out of...and from what I've been told, that's what's going on with your son."

"That seems to be the case."

Tony thought that the admiral seemed stiff and rather restrained, considering they were talking about his son working under duress, but he didn't say anything, not wanting to get involved in family stuff.

They said nothing more on the trip over. When they got to Gibbs' house, Tony and Ziva got out first and looked around before gesturing for the McGees to go inside.

Tony and Ziva came in behind the others and waved to Ducky as they closed the door behind them.

"He's asleep," Ducky said softly. "He's had a few bad days."

Joan looked at her husband and the admiral walked by Ducky to the couch where Tim was sleeping. Tony watched as Loren sat down on the couch and gently shook his son to wake him up.

"Tim," he said.

Tim woke up, looked at his father and said nothing.

"Remember what I told you on that night?"

Tim still didn't say anything.

"If you need to get out, you tell me and I do what I can."

Tim nodded mutely.

"Do you need to get out?"

There was only silence.

"Tim, answer me. Do you need to get out?"

A single, slow nod.

"Then, we're getting you out."

To Tony's surprise, Tim sat up and hugged his father tightly...and even more surprising to Tony, Loren hugged his son back without any hesitation.

There was only silence in the room, and what was happening needed no words.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

After Tim hugged his dad, his mom and Sarah both walked over to the couch and joined them. The NCIS people discreetly withdrew from the living room to give the McGees some privacy.

"Okay, so what's happening, Boss?" Tony asked, keeping his voice low.

"They killed a man. We need to get Abby analyzing McGee's clothes for spatter."

"Who did they kill?" Ziva asked. "And who are _they_?"

Ducky smiled. "_They_ are Timothy's as-yet-unnamed controllers. They killed Philip Orlen."

"You mean the DoD guy who came to headquarters?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Why?"

"Because he asked too many questions, apparently...and to teach Timothy a lesson."

"What lesson?"

"They're reinforcing the idea that anyone who tries to help him will die," Gibbs said, "and that, if it happens, it's McGee's fault."

"He doesn't believe that, does he?" Tony asked.

"Yes, he does, Anthony. He's had thirteen years for the lesson to sink in."

Tony looked back toward the McGee family.

"That sucks."

"What do we do, then?"

"We get him out."

"But how?" Ziva asked. "Thirteen years is a long time. Surely, they would not have been able to succeed for so long if they made mistakes."

"They _did_ make a mistake...by killing Orlen," Gibbs said. "It pushed him too far."

"How far?" Tony asked.

"Just far enough to get him into our hands," Ducky said. "Now, we may need to fight to keep him here."

"Who are we fighting?" Tony asked with surprising perspicacity. "McGee or the guys after him?"

"Perhaps equal mixes of both at this point," Ducky said honestly. "He will not want to put anyone else in danger because of his choices."

"What choices?" Ziva asked.

"His choice to hack in DARPA at age seventeen, as well as the nonexistent choices his controllers have placed in his mind."

"Whoa...that guy in there hacked DARPA? He's that good?"

"Better now, probably, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, that goes without saying, doesn't it? Actually, Boss, you're talking quite a bit. What's the occasion?"

_Thwack!_

Tony chuckled a little and got back to business.

"Shouldn't we get the clothes to Abby, then? ...but if he's still wearing them now..."

"They stink, Tony," Gibbs said. "He's probably been wearing them for a couple of days at least."

Tony wrinkled his nose. "I'm guessing that I'm the lucky guy to take them to Abby?"

Gibbs just smiled.

"Well, then, I'll give him his new clothes, and he can stop smelling."

Tony picked up the sack of clothes and walked into the living room.

"Hey, McGee."

Tim twitched away from Tony, but mastered the movement and tried to look normal.

"Yeah?"

"We need your clothes, and I've been reliably informed that you stink," Tony said with a smile. "So I've come bearing gifts! Here are some clothes to tide you over. The bathroom is just down the hall. You can take a quick shower and wear something clean."

"Do I smell that bad?" Tim asked.

"You've smelled better, Tim," Sarah said, "but it's okay."

"You need my clothes?" Tim asked, looking only at Tony...and Tony could tell that was because Tim didn't trust him.

"Well, the blood on them, but yes. So when you take them off, don't get them wet or anything. We need them, stink and all."

Tony was gratified to see Tim smile a little bit. He got to his feet and walked over to Tony. His hands were shaking a little as he reached out for the bag.

"What's in the bag?" he asked.

"Pants, shirts...boxers. You're a boxers guy, right?"

Tim shrugged but didn't complain at Tony's choice.

"Good...because I don't make much of a habit of buying other men their underwear."

Tim managed to let out a soft chuckle.

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," he said. "I'm going to get clean."

He wove through his family and disappeared into the bathroom.

"So...how long are you guys going to be hanging around here?" Tony asked.

"Here in this house?" Loren asked.

Tony shrugged. "Whatever."

"I doubt we'll impose for very long, but we're not leaving DC until this is resolved."

"Okay. Just curious. I'm just hanging out until McGee gives me his clothes."

"Will NCIS really investigate this?" Loren asked. "There's no Navy component. No one affiliated with the Navy in any way is involved directly."

Tony smiled. "That doesn't matter. If Gibbs cares about it, then, it's going to be done, and Ducky _really_ cares and I almost think that he has more pull. He'll get everyone else involved if he is convinced...and he's convinced. Nothing that McGee could have said would stop him."

"I'm glad because we had no idea it was this bad," Joan said. "Sarah...did you?"

Sarah shook her head. "No. I thought it was bothering _me_ more than it was bothering Tim...but he wouldn't ever have told me. He thinks he has to _protect_ me."

"Looks like there was a reason for that, Sarah," Loren said.

"That's no excuse, Dad," Sarah said with more than a little annoyance. "What happened to Tim is wrong and we all know it. He gave in to protect the McGee name and to escape the Navy. He didn't do it because he wanted it."

"None of us knew what it would be like when this started, Sarah," Joan said. "Don't open up old wounds. It's not necessary."

Sarah sat down on the couch where Tim had been sleeping and scowled at the floor. Tony could see that there was still some friction regarding Tim's situation. Thirteen years was a long time...but not long enough, apparently.

They sat in an awkward silence for about five minutes and then Tim came out of the bathroom. He was wearing the jeans and t-shirt Tony had picked.

"So...that means something to you, does it?" he asked.

Tim looked at the shirt and smiled a little.

"Yeah. Home...more or less. Local host is more accurate, but home."

"I knew it! Ha. _The Wizard of Oz_ got me through the geek speak."

"Thanks, Agent DiNozzo. I appreciate it."

"Call me, Tony. No sense in being so formal...not after I bought your underwear."

Tim's smile widened.

"I'll keep that in mind...Tony."

"Anyway, if you will lay your smelly clothes upon me, I'll go on my merry way and start the process going. ...oh, and I hope you don't mind random crazy women throwing themselves on you and hugging you."

Tim's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Huh?"

"When Abby gets here, she's going to hug you, McGee. Just a warning. Nothing you can do to stop it."

"...okay..."

"Unless you have lung trouble, it's a good thing. I promise."

"She hugged me at Kate's funeral...but it wasn't bad."

Tony just chuckled. "It won't be _bad_, but it may be...enthusiastic. That's Abby."

"I think I can handle that."

"Good. I'm sure she'll be along."

Tim just sat down on the couch beside Sarah and nodded slightly. Tony could tell that Tim was feeling extremely awkward and so he excused himself.

"See you, later, McGee. And don't worry. Gibbs' place isn't the nicest there is, but I don't think Gibbs has ever let anything bad happen to someone at his house...well, except for Ari, but man, that guy deserved it."

Tim just nodded again and Tony walked back to the kitchen.

"I've got his stuff, Boss. I'll head over."

"No. You stay here. I need to talk to Jenny."

"Are you going to make this official, Boss? There's no Navy involved."

Gibbs smiled. "Yes, there is."

"What?"

Gibbs took the bag of Tim's clothes and left without answering. Tony looked at Ducky.

"There is a high-ranking naval officer under threat, Anthony."

"Oh, really? I thought it was just McGee we were protecting."

"Oh, no. Timothy told us that, after they killed Philip Orlen, they said that it could have been his father on the floor, dead. His life was threatened. It is now a Navy case."

"Boy, that's weak."

"Of course it is."

"Besides, I think that, if they could, they would not hesitate to bring harm to these people," Ziva said. "They have already proven that they are willing to kill."

"True. You think the Director will go for it?"

"With Gibbs telling her?"

"Exactly."

Ziva paused, took a breath, and looked out the window.

"I am going to look around, make sure that there is no one watching us here."

Tony watched her go and then looked at Ducky.

"So...what now, Ducky?"

"Now, we give Timothy some time to come to grips with his new situation and then, when Jethro returns, we begin to plan how we free Timothy from his situation."

"Ducky, be honest," Tony said, keeping his voice low. "Do you really think we can do that? It's been thirteen years, and they're clearly determined to keep control of him. I just don't understand why. No matter _how_ good he is, what could be so important that he's worth killing to keep?"

"I think Timothy knows, even if he hasn't told us yet. ...and yes, I think we can do it if we try, but I'm not deluding myself that it will be easy. It may even be dangerous for all concerned."

"As long as we're all on the same page. How long are we going to wait until McGee trusts us enough to tell us everything?"

"That is something I can't answer. It will be something we have to play by ear."

"Okay. I'm ready to do that. I just don't want to be fighting a losing battle."

"I don't think we are."

"Okay. I'm going to clear the rest of the house. I doubt anyone got in, but just in case."

Ducky smiled and nodded.

Tony walked off to check the house. He felt better when he was actually doing something, and he wasn't exactly part of all this yet. He would be as they went on, but he could acknowledge that he and Ziva were on the outside at this point.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs went down to Abby first. Perhaps, he should get permission from Jenny first, but he didn't bother. He was going to do this and, especially after talking to Tim himself, he was determined to break that hold the nameless people had. Even if he had to do it on his own time, he would, but he'd get the results he wanted, first.

"Abby!" he called out over the raucous music.

"What is it, Gibbs?" Abby shouted back. "I thought you weren't working today!"

"I'm not! You are! Turn this noise down!"

Abby grinned at him and turned down the stereo.

"I wasn't expecting you," she said at a normal volume. "You're supposed to have the day off."

"I need you to process this. Tell me whose blood it is."

"Where did this come from?" Abby asked as she took it. "Phew! It stinks! Whose clothes are these?"

"Timothy McGee's."

"Was he living in them?"

"For a couple of days at least."

"Smelly. What happened? Is he okay?"

"He's alive, but he was the witness to the murder of Philip Orlen...who worked for DoD before they killed him as a warning."

Abby's eyes widened.

"Whoa. What do you want me to do?"

"Get the evidence that this is Orlen's blood. He said that they threatened to make it look like he was the killer."

"Okay. I'm on it! Is this...official?"

"Not yet."

Abby grinned. "Okay. I don't mind."

"Thanks, Abbs."

"Is he at your place?"

"Yeah."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Could be. Not sure yet."

"Cool. I'll get this going."

Gibbs kissed her on the cheek and then headed up to the more difficult conversation. He strode past Cynthia who rolled her eyes and didn't even bother to try stopping him. Jenny was on the phone but she sighed and got off when she saw him.

"You could at least knock, Jethro."

"Not this time."

"What is it?"

"I have a case that will need my time."

"What is that? I hadn't heard."

"A naval officer has been threatened."

"Who?"

"Rear Admiral Loren McGee."

"What's happened?"

"His son, Timothy McGee, is working for DARPA under duress and witnessed a murder that was committed to keep him in their control."

"Who are they?"

"Don't have any names yet."

"Why not?"

"Mostly because Tim McGee isn't talking much yet. He's been working for them since he was seventeen and is terrified that they'll hurt his family if he steps out of line."

"Wait...this is the same Timothy McGee who accused NCIS of not doing our job?"

"Yes."

Jenny took a breath and sighed.

"Jethro, your grounds for making this Navy are weak, practically nonexistent, and how do you know that this isn't just a man who's lost his mind?"

"The blood spatter on his clothes was a clue," Gibbs said dryly.

"Blood?"

"And probably brain matter. Abby is running it now."

"Before I cleared it?"

Gibbs smiled.

"Of course. And who is this victim supposed to be?"

"Philip Orlen."

"The DoD representative?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Do you want me to check that out?"

"Not right now, I don't. We're not sure how much the killers know about what McGee is doing. They already threatened Ducky's mother just because he expressed concern about McGee's situation."

"You're sure it was the same people?"

"As sure as I can be."

"This could be an absolute nightmare, Jethro."

"I know."

"And do you know how bad this could be for me?"

"I have an idea."

"And you don't really care, I know. I don't have to tell you to keep it quiet."

"No."

"Just what are you expecting to find?"

"That there is a clandestine group operating within DARPA that is less-than-sanctioned, and that we can expose them, free Tim McGee, and solve a murder at the same time."

"And what if this group, if they exist, _are_ operating with the sanction of higher-ups?"

"Then, we'll expose them more noisily."

"Are you sure you know what you're getting into, Jethro? What you're getting _me_ into?"

"Yes...and I know what Tim McGee has been dealing with for a lot longer. Navy case or not, I'm not letting that stand. If you let NCIS investigate, that'll just make it easier."

Jenny looked at him for a long moment and then she sighed again.

"All right, Jethro. You can make this a case, but be careful...not just for my sake, but for yours. If this is as bad you think it is, you could be dragging a lot of people into the line of fire."

"I know that. So do they. We're not walking into this blind."

"Then, good luck, and if any calls come my way, I'll see what I can do to stall them."

Gibbs nodded and left the office. Jenny's capitulation had been less than enthusiastic but he had her cooperation and that's all he cared about. He had more options than he would have had otherwise and he wanted to have that flexibility in case Tim's controllers _did_ turn out to be as dangerous as he thought they were.

If they were, then, they'd need all the help they could get.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Why are you all here?" Tim asked.

Ducky was back in the kitchen, and Tim was looking at his family. His mind was finally feeling settled enough that he could think about something other than Mr. Orlen being killed...and he now realized that his parents were here...all the way from California.

"You need help, Tim," Joan said. "Of course, we're here."

"But how did you know?" Tim asked. "I wouldn't ever have said anything to you. I didn't, did I?"

"No, you didn't," Loren said. "But you should have."

"Who did?"

"An NCIS agent by the name of Stan Burley. He came to talk to us about what had happened."

"Why?" Tim asked.

"Because these people care about you, Tim," Loren said. "What brought them around to it, I don't know, but they care."

Tim looked at his family and then down at his hands.

"I don't want you here," he said. "I don't want you to be part of this."

"Of course, we're part of it, Tim!" Sarah said angrily. "We've _always_ been part of it if you would just stop acting like an idiot and let us know what's happened."

"I've been trying to _protect_ you, Sarah!" Tim said. "These people...you don't know what they're like!"

"Maybe I would if you'd _tell_ us!"

"They killed a man, Sarah!" Tim said, with some heat. "They shot him just to teach _me_ a lesson! Don't you get it? I would have been putting you right there! They told me that Dad could have been in Mr. Orlen's place! ...and you could have been," Tim said, turning to Loren. "You could have been dead on the floor there and there would have been nothing I could do about it! I'm not going to face that, okay? I'm not going to put you in front of them so they can kill you! Kate died. Erin was killed just a few days ago. I'm not going to risk anyone else that I care about! The place I'm at is what I deserve for what I did. None of you did anything wrong!"

Loren shook his head even before Tim finished talking.

"No, Tim. That's wrong. I made a huge mistake...by not listening to you. You paid the price for that, and you don't have to anymore!"

"You keep thinking that there's something you can do, Dad! There isn't! These guys have all the advantage, all the cards. I...I lost my head when I went to Dr. Mallard's house. I need to go back to work! ...before they find out where I am and start..."

"What, Tim?" Loren asked. "These people, whoever they are, they're not invincible."

"It's easy for _you_ to say that. You've never been in that room!" Tim said and felt himself start to tremble a little. "You've never seen them! You've never had them threatening the people you love. You've never gone along, knowing that if you ever get called into that room again, they're going to threaten you again. You've never been there, Dad!"

"Then, tell me about it, Tim."

"No. It's too much of a risk! I don't want to see you dead, Dad. I don't want to see them shoot you, too. Mr. Orlen was bad enough." Tim felt the tears in his eyes. He tried to blink them away. "I couldn't bear it if someone else died because of what I saw."

"What did you see?"

Tim almost gasped. He hadn't meant to let that out. He'd _never_ let that out. Ever. That was something they had impressed on him early. What he'd seen in his initial hack could _never_ be known to anyone.

"Don't ask me that, Dad. Don't _ever_ ask me that. Ever."

He could see that his father wanted nothing more than to press him for information he wouldn't give...but what surprised him was that he backed off.

"Okay, Tim. For now. It's okay."

Tim realized that he was shaking like a leaf and that Sarah was hugging him. He hadn't noticed either thing until just this moment.

"Calm down, Tim," Joan said. "It's all right."

"Really, you guys should just go and I'll go back to work and everything will be back to normal...almost."

"No, Tim. I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen. You're not going back there, and we're not leaving you," Loren said. "Not this time. Whether your mistake or mine was the bigger one doesn't matter. What matters is that you're going to stop paying for it. Now."

"What are you going to do, Dad? How are you going to stop them?"

"I don't know yet, but you're not going back."

"What if–?"

"No more what ifs. The only thing we're going worry about now is getting you away from them."

Tim leaned back on the couch. There was nothing he wanted more than to get away, but he couldn't see that it would ever be possible.

"Let these people help you, Tim. They are offering their aid without any of us asking for it. Not even you," Loren said. "They don't care that you're not asking. They don't even care that you're practically begging them to leave you alone. They care about what you _need_. Let them help you. I'm going to do what I can. I'm not a new admiral anymore. I have a position that I can throw behind whatever is done."

"I don't want you giving anything up," Tim said.

Loren leaned forward and put his hands on Tim's shoulders.

"I already did, Tim. I gave up having my son in my life because I let him sacrifice himself. That is something I can never get back, but I can take the steps now to start fixing it. My job isn't as important as my family."

"Dad...I..."

"No, Tim. We're taking control again. We've both been living under the delusion that there's nothing we could do to fix what went wrong. ...and now, we're seeing that there's more. So we need to take the chance, and Tim, I'm willing to do that. We're not going into this blindly."

"But..."

Loren actually laughed.

"Tim, you're an adult, but don't forget that the rest of us are, too."

Tim flushed a little.

"It's just that...this could go so badly, Dad."

"But it could also go really well. Don't forget that."

Tim tried to calm himself down. There was still more than a little anxiety left over from from what he'd seen. He just couldn't seem to settle. He was trying to, but his mind was so scattered that it was a lot easier to panic.

"We're going to do this, Tim."

"No matter what?" Tim asked.

"No matter what."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, Abbs, talk to me," Gibbs said, striding into the lab.

"Gibbs, I haven't had that much time."

"Enough?" he asked with a smile.

Abby grinned. "Of course. I'm a miracle worker!"

"And?"

"And there was blood and brain matter on Tim's clothes...along with a _lot_ of BO. I hope he's showered."

"He has."

"Good. The DNA I found belongs to one Philip Orlen. It was kind of difficult to get a hold of his information, but I did. So...yes, it's what you said. And it's definitely brain matter, and so, he's definitely dead. ...and Tim couldn't have been the one to kill him...unless he's got rubber arms that will stretch six feet."

"Thanks, Abbs. How far did you have to go to get his information?"

"Not too far. He's a federal employee, no matter who _else_ he was working for. Gibbs, is he okay? Tim, I mean."

"He's all right. We've got permission to pursue this, officially."

"Wow. How are you swinging that?"

"McGee's father is an admiral. They threatened him."

Abby smiled conspiratorily.

"I love it when you're devious like that, Gibbs."

"This isn't going to be easy, Abbs. I've checked. There's no sign of Orlen's body. No evidence that anyone has noticed he's gone."

"Okay. I'll still be careful. Is Tim going to be at your place?"

"For now. We might move him to a safehouse, now that we can."

"What about his family?"

"Them, too."

"So...why are they doing this?"

"Don't know...yet."

Abby nodded.

"Should I be worried?"

"Maybe."

"Okay. Then, you can come back and keep me safe," she said.

Gibbs leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Always, Abbs."

Then, he left the lab. There was a lot of planning to do...back at his house, now that he had permission. He wasn't sure how long it would take before these nameless people started to realize what was going on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A man pulled quickly out of sight as the two NCIS agents came into view. It was clear that this was where Tim had retreated. It had taken some time to figure it out. Tim had never acted against what they had expected until now, and for him to behave so disobediently had thrown them all for a loop for a while. It had taken a full day before they realized that he wasn't coming back. Then, it had taken about the same amount of time to find his car...and get rid of it. It had just been left in a parking lot. Not even locked.

Orlen's body had been disposed of, but if Tim started talking, that would spell nothing but trouble. He had his orders. If it was possible to scare Tim back to work, then, they would do that, but if not...well, thirteen years worth of work was pretty good. They could always get someone else...someone who _didn't_ know what Tim knew. If it weren't for the fact that Tim _was_ so talented, they would have simply killed him years ago, but a seventeen-year-old able to hack into, not only DARPA, but the parts they had hidden themselves illustrated extra talent...which should be exploited. But up until now, Tim had been easily intimidated, easily controlled. Now...he wasn't. Now, he was a loose cannon. Now, he was a liability. No matter what he could do, he wasn't worth keeping if they couldn't control him.

Killing Orlen had been one thing. He wouldn't be missed, but all these NCIS people...this would be more difficult. It would take time and careful planning to get Tim out of their clutches.

The NCIS agents went back inside and he started his watching again. He'd broke into a house nearby and set up his equipment. He couldn't stay here much longer, but he could stay long enough. He looked back over his shoulder at the old man he'd bound, gagged and blindfolded. He smiled. He'd have to clear out of here tonight. No sense in adding to the body count just yet.

Carefully, he aimed his receiver toward the house.

"_...away from the windows, Mom."_

"_Do you really think it's that dangerous, Tim?"_

"_I don't know, but if it is..."_

Ah. So _that's_ where Tim's family had disappeared to. They were all here with him. That made sense. His family was his Achilles heel. If they could get to his family, especially his father, Tim would do whatever they wanted. They'd always kept him in line that way.

Well, time to go and make some plans. He'd send someone else to keep watch. Once he let the old man go and he made a report of the home invasion, they'd have no choice but to move Tim and his family elsewhere. No sense in losing sight of them like that.

He walked over to the bed, putting the voice distorter over his mouth.

"I'm going to let you go now. If you want to stay alive, you'll wait for ten minutes after I untie you to get up and report to the police that I was here. Understand?"

The old man nodded his head.

"Good."

He pulled out a knife and sliced through the plastic ties on the man's wrists and ankles.

"Have a nice night."

Then, he left the house through the backyard and walked away, down the sidewalk as the other NCIS agent pulled up. He smiled. They had no idea.

Not yet.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tim wasn't the type to wring his hands with worry...but he wanted to. The longer his family stayed here, the longer he stayed away from DARPA...the more danger they were in. He could imagine it all too clearly. No one seemed to realize that they were dealing with monsters, monsters who could and had gotten away with murder. Almost without realizing it, he started thinking about how he could get away from the house without anyone following him. How could he have lived so many years without this feeling of suffocation only to have it fall on him now? Why did he _feel_ so trapped now? Why couldn't he think straight? What was he going to do?

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped. He couldn't rid himself of that instant of pure terror whenever someone addressed him suddenly. His heart started thumping and he took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. When had he become such a wuss?

"Timothy, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure, Dr. Mallard," he said softly. He looked beyond Ducky to where Tim's family was standing in the kitchen, talking quietly to the NCIS agents. They had come back inside and sat down to discuss what was going on. Tim had stayed in the living room, wondering what was going to happen next...but not really wanting to hear what NCIS had to say about it.

"Why did you come to my house?"

"I'm sorry," Tim whispered.

"No, I'm not accusing you of anything. Based on your behavior now and before this chaos began, I would not have expected you to come to me for any reason. You have seemed bound and determined to deal with all this yourself. So...what was it that led you to my home?"

Tim felt ashamed. Ducky had tried to help him, had expressed concern...and Tim only cared about him insofar as it helped keep others safe from harm.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"For what?"

"For not caring."

"What do you mean, lad?"

Tim looked at him.

"Why do you care? What have I done to deserve you caring about my well-being? I've done nothing. I've put you in danger. I've put people you know in danger. Why do you care...when I haven't cared about you?"

Ducky sat down and Tim caught the pitying expression on his face. He flushed and looked at his lap. He wasn't used to being an object of pity and he wasn't sure he liked it. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn't.

"Timothy, I'm only guessing, but I would wager that you have lived in a very small world. The only people you care about are the members of your family...and Erin Kendall."

Tim winced. Her death was still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to think about that, either.

"I liked Kate," he said.

"How did you meet her?"

"She called my name...but she was talking to someone else...her boyfriend. I tried to ask her out, acted like an idiot and she still said yes."

Ducky chuckled a little.

"I imagine that she enjoyed your company as well. Caitlin wasn't the type to pretend."

Tim smiled a little. It was nice to hear, even if it didn't matter any longer.

"And yet, Timothy, I feel as though you have not allowed yourself to make many outside connections."

"Good thing for me. Look at what happens when I do. They die."

Ducky squeezed Tim's shoulder. He flinched a little, but tried to suppress the feeling. It wasn't like he really thought Ducky would hurt him.

"That's why I care, Timothy. ...because you have lived a life that has given you a skewed perspective of the world. All that exists is your family and the people who control you. What kind of a life is that?"

"The one I deserve. No one else should pay for my mistakes."

"But that's not true. You're choosing to believe what they tell you is true and a teenager's perception of reality. One mistake dooms you for a lifetime. That's not what the world is like for most of us, Timothy. It doesn't have to be that way for you."

"So you say. Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical that just because _you've_ said it, that makes it true."

"You refuse to believe me, but you'll believe whatever your masters tell you?"

"They've shown me how serious they are, Dr. Mallard. I _know_ what they say is true. All I have from you are empty words."

"So you only believe violence and threats of violence?"

"Dr. Mallard, people can say anything that they want. They can lie. They can be ignorant. The proof is in the action, not in the words. I've seen _their_ actions. I've seen what they can do and have done." He looked up. "I've only had words from you."

"And yet that's not true, either, Timothy. You've had a wealth of actions that you are choosing to ignore...most likely out of fear."

"What have I missed?"

"You were in my house and we did not let you leave. We have been investigating your life until you told us to stop. We have brought your family here so that we can watch over them in case what you believe is true. We are not standing idly by watching things happen. We are _doing_."

"You can't fight against them," Tim said. "You can't."

"And who are these people that you are so certain of their omnipotence?"

"The same people who have always been in charge. Always."

"Who are they?"

Tim shook his head. "They don't have names. They don't _need_ names."

"Yes, they do...because giving a name to a person lessens the mystery and the power they have. We need to know who they are and what they've done."

Tim shook his head again.

"No."

"Yes, because we are all committed at this point and your holding back will only be more dangerous now. You're not protecting anyone by keeping secrets."

Tim stood up and looked around the room. It was strangely bland. No personal touches at all. Nothing to distract him.

"Who is Agent Gibbs?" he asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Who is he? Why does he care about helping me? Why would he open his home? You keep telling me that I have to tell you things that I've never told anyone...because I've been told _not_ to do that. What should make me want to trust this Agent Gibbs?"

"The fact that he is willing to open his home to you, that he is trying to help you. That should tell you all you need to know."

Tim shrugged. He believed that Ducky was sincere. He believed that these people were being genuine. He just didn't believe that they could really do anything.

...and yet, he was staying. He didn't know why that was. Except for those people in that room, he hadn't ever let people tell him what he was supposed to do. He knew what he had to do and that was it. Not even Erin had been able to convince him to do anything differently.

"Timothy."

Tim suddenly needed to get away, away from Ducky, away from his family, away from all these people who kept insisting that what he _knew_ was wrong. He needed to be alone.

"I'd like to go down to the basement, please, Dr. Mallard."

Tim was surprised when Ducky nodded easily.

"Feel free, lad. We'll be up here when you're ready."

"Okay."

Tim fled to the solitude of the basement, wanting nothing more than silence to help him gather his thoughts. It felt like he'd been stuck with the chaos and noise ever since that gunshot. He swallowed hard and tried not to think of Mr. Orlen dead on the floor and the blood on Tim. The hours after that had happened...even if the noise hadn't been real, it had been in his head and he'd relived the shooting, over and over again. Even though he'd been afraid of their threats, he'd never _really_ believed that they'd go through with murder. They never had before. He'd been afraid, but not paralyzed by that fear. ...but now... Now, that was all he had. Just fear.

When he got to the basement, he stared at the boat. He had an irrational desire to rip the thing to pieces. He didn't know why, and he had no intention of carrying through on the feeling, but there it was. Tim just wanted to tear it apart and leave nothing behind.

Instead, he sat on a stool and stared at the boat.

Why did Gibbs make boats? What was the point of it?

"Why am I worrying about some guy's hobbies when my life sucks?" he said aloud.

Tim leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. How could this possibly end well?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked in and looked around.

"Where's McGee?" he asked.

"In the basement," Loren said. "He needed some time alone. What's going to happen next?"

"We need to plan our next step, but we need McGee's help for it."

"He's been rather reticent, Jethro," Ducky said. "As you might guess."

"Okay. I'm going to go talk to him."

Perhaps Loren could sense that Gibbs wasn't one to mince words.

"He's been through a lot, Agent Gibbs."

"I know...and if he doesn't start helping us out, he'll go through a lot more...and so will we."

He walked to the basement door and headed down the stairs. Tim was sitting on a stool, staring at his boat.

"It's just a boat," Gibbs said.

Tim jumped. He was still very on edge. Gibbs thumped the rest of the way down the stairs. Tim flinched with every loud sound.

"You seem pretty interested in it."

Tim looked at him and then at the boat.

"Part of me wants to break it."

_That_ was a surprise.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just do."

"I hope you don't."

"I won't. I have control over myself."

"Do you?" Gibbs asked. "Seems to me that _they're_ controlling you."

"I won't break your boat."

"Good."

Gibbs could already see that Tim was attempting to withdraw. He didn't trust Gibbs and he didn't want to reveal anything about himself to someone he didn't trust. Gibbs needed to gain Tim's trust in order to make any progress. He wasn't sure he could do it in a short amount of time, but he'd give it a try.

"You don't trust me," he said, deciding to grab the bull by the horns.

"No. Why should I?"

"Because we're risking our lives for you."

"I didn't ask you to do that," Tim shot back. "I've already told you that I should just go back to work and let everything go back to normal, but you won't let me! You'll have to do better than that."

Gibbs smiled.

"Okay. What will it take, then?"

"For what?"

"For you to trust me, because you're right. We won't let you go back to a situation that's wrong, not now that we know just how wrong it is. And in order for this to work, you'll _have_ to be able to trust us."

"I don't," Tim said.

"I know. So what will it take?"

"Depends. What are you going to want me to trust you about?"

Gibbs smiled. He had a feeling that no matter what he said, Tim wouldn't want to trust him with anything.

"I need you to tell me as much about the people who control you as possible. I need you to tell me what it is that makes you so valuable to them, what you saw that means you can't be allowed to leave."

Tim was already shaking his head.

"I won't tell you that. I can't. Ever. That's not something you can know. No one can know that. I didn't even tell _Erin_ that."

Gibbs could see that Tim was adamant about that, which probably meant that was the most important thing for them to know.

"And what will happen if you do tell me?"

"They'll find out and they'll hurt my family."

"How will they find out? Do you think they've managed to bug my basement when there have been people in here all the time?"

"They'll find out."

"How?" Gibbs asked again.

Tim didn't seem to realize just how deeply he'd been manipulated. An automatic reaction, no real thought to it. He couldn't tell or people would get hurt. That was all there was. No alternative. Gibbs wanted to get him to think because Tim was smart enough to realize how ridiculous what he was saying actually was. ...if he'd think about it.

Tim got up and walked over to the boat. He put out his hand and touched it gently.

"Come on, McGee. Really think about what you're saying. How will they know if you tell me something?"

"Why do you build boats, Agent Gibbs?"

"What?"

"Why do you build boats? What's the point?"

"Why does there have to be a point? It's a hobby."

"Yes, but why this one? There has to be a reason. Tell me."

"Why?"

"Because."

Gibbs laughed a little, but decided to reveal a small part of himself in the hopes that Tim would reciprocate.

"I build boats because it reminds me of my wife and daughter...who were killed while I was on duty. I remember them when I build these boats. Sometimes, it wasn't fair because I remarried, but I still built the boats...and I still do it now."

Tim nodded but didn't turn around.

"Why would you want to break it?"

"Because it means something to you."

"...and you think that would keep me from wanting to help you?"

"Maybe. Wouldn't it?"

"Maybe."

There was a long silence. Gibbs didn't say anything. Tim struck him as a very stubborn person. He needed time to think about what had been said without being pushed to make a decision. That would only make him resist more.

"I saw something...something I shouldn't have seen," Tim whispered, not taking his eyes off the boat.

"When?"

"Back then."

"What was it?"

"I can't tell you. They'll know."

"They won't know unless you _tell _them...Tim. Don't give them more power than they really have."

"They always seem to know."

"Because you tell them when they ask. Not because they just know."

"How can you be sure?" Tim asked. "How can I know if you're right? If you're wrong...my family could die. I've already lost people I let myself care about. I don't know if I can do it again. It hurts when people die."

"Yes, it does, and the closer you are to them, the more it hurts...but you can always survive it, even when you don't think you can. I know from experience."

Another long silence.

"What did you see?"

"It's not all of DARPA, you know. Most people who work there aren't like me. They're normal. The people I...work for...they're...not the same."

"That's good to know. I'd hate to think that what they're doing to you is sanctioned."

"It's not what they're doing to me that's the problem."

"Then, what is it?"

"It's what I saw...only I didn't realize what it was at first. I was just...going into as many places as I could to make sure they saw me...and they did. Not DARPA, but these other people."

"And what did _you_ see that was worth all that they've done?"

Tim finally turned away from the boat and looked at Gibbs with haunted eyes.

"They won't know if I tell you?"

"No."

"Promise? My family won't get killed if I tell you?"

"No. I promise. What did you see?"

Tim looked around, his eyes darting to every corner of the room.

"Biological warfare," he whispered, so softly that Gibbs could barely hear him.

"What?"

"Bio-weapons."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When he got back to DARPA, he let himself into a small back room. They always had to be careful about having meetings when they talked openly. Most people didn't know anything about them and, because of the nature of some of the research, it was bad form to ask.

"Well?"

He sat down.

"It'll be difficult. All the McGees are there. The NCIS agents are aware and on edge. They may, in time, let down their guard, but I don't know that we want to wait that long."

"What do you suggest?"

"We have two choices here, that I can see. First, we try to get at his family. They're his weak point and always will be. If he thinks they're in danger, or if we really go that route, he'll do whatever it takes to save them, to protect them."

"And the other?"

"We eliminate him."

"Your recommendation?"

"Elimination. He's become more trouble than he's worth. We got thirteen years out of him. That's not bad. Now, he's become a possible source of trouble if he stays alive and out of our control. If we can kill him, sooner rather than later, all the better. The longer he's away from us, the more likely it is that he'll feel safe enough to...start talking about things we don't want him talking about."

"Do you want to make it look accidental or suicidal?"

"We could take the time for that, but I think time is of the essence and we'd be better served just to kill him as quickly as possible...but just him. If we start taking out NCIS agents, we'll get way more scrutiny than we can tolerate. It won't take much to ruin fifteen years of work. There are people who will want what we have, but we have to finish these last trials. Delay is not something we can deal with at this point. Tim McGee needs to die as soon as possible. If we get to him before he can start talking, they won't have anything to go on because nothing that we've done with him is on any record here. They can bluster all they want, but DARPA can claim complete ignorance...because they _are_ ignorant of what we're doing."

"Who will do it? He might get caught."

"I'll do it. It was my mistake that let him get away. I'll clean up the mess."

The other man smiled. "By making another one."

He chuckled. "I can deal with the mess I'll make...actually, I won't have to. Someone else will clean up the blood this time around."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Are you ready to tell everyone about this?" Gibbs asked.

"No. I don't want my family to know about this. I don't want _anyone_ to know!" Tim said. "There are too many things that can go wrong."

"We need to know, Tim," Gibbs said.

Tim resisted the idea. He _hated_ the idea.

"I already told you what it was about. Why do you need to know more? You don't! You just _want_ to know more! You just want me to tell you everything! You're no different from anyone else! All you care about is what I can do, what I can tell, how you can use me! Just like them!"

"No," Gibbs said, his voice as calm as ever. "We _need_ to know because you just told me that these people are apparently doing something wrong. That means that they need to be stopped."

"You can't stop them!" Tim said, feeling his heart in his throat. "They can't _be_ stopped! They've been working on this for fifteen years and..." He stopped. He had said something else. Instantly, he started looking around to make sure that they hadn't heard him. "Stop asking me questions about them."

He saw an expression of pity on Gibbs' face. He didn't like that.

"What's _that_ look for? I know what my life is like. I don't need a commentary from anyone."

The expression became a smile.

"You haven't ever really grown up, have you, McGee."

"Excuse me?" Tim asked, happy to set aside his fear for irritation at being treated like a child. "I have been working, earning a salary, and seeing things most people never see since I was seventeen years old! I'm more grown up than most people."

"Except when it comes to the monsters in your closet," Gibbs said. "You seem like a real smart guy, McGee. I don't doubt that you've seen a lot, probably _know_ a lot more than I ever will, but you're a little kid when it comes to facing the reality of these people. You've turned them into all-powerful gods who can see and do anything they want to."

Tim flushed even as his stomach tied up in knots at the mere mention of his employers.

"I can see it in your face, McGee. They scare you. Just the _idea _of them terrifies you. Now, maybe, it's just what's been happening the last few days, but you are barely not cringing every time I mention them."

"Would it make you feel better if I _did_ cringe?" Tim asked, trying to fend Gibbs' off.

"No. I want you to think about why you _are_. I don't want to call it brainwashing..."

"Good! Because I can think for myself!" Tim retorted, angrily.

"...but what I see in you is what I said before. Psychological torture. Conditioning you to believe that they can do anything. They don't even have to hurt you or anyone else."

"They killed Mr. Orlen!"

"Yes, and don't you see that they completely failed to do what they wanted?"

"What are you talking about?" Tim asked.

"That was supposed to make them more secure, bring you further into their control. It drove you away."

"I'm trying to go back. I lost my head for a little bit."

"And it was probably the first time you'd thought clearly enough to do the right thing."

"The right thing is putting my family in danger?"

"How much danger are they _really_ in, McGee? Tell me. What have they done that has made you so sure they would hurt your family?"

Tim shook his head. He didn't want to talk about _this_, either. He had told Gibbs enough that he had hoped Gibbs would understand his need for silence. His idea had completely backfired. Gibbs only wanted to know more...and to force Tim to tell _everyone_ about it.

"I won't believe that these guys are as powerful as you say they are without proof."

"They took pictures, okay?" Tim said. "They got into Sarah's room while she was sleeping at night...my parents' room. They can get _anywhere_!"

"Even here?"

"Yes."

"So you don't feel safe anywhere?"

"I feel safe as long as I'm doing what they want."

"Which is exactly what they planned. What you don't seem to be seeing, McGee, is that you are doing exactly what they want. You think they're dangerous. You think they're doing things that are illegal, dangerous, and wrong. ...so my question is this: Why aren't you doing anything to stop them? You think your family is safer with whatever they're doing?"

That hurt...probably more than Gibbs realized. Tim knew that there were dangers involved in what he had seen. Dangers to his father until he retired. Dangers to others, too, but Tim didn't care so much about the others.

...and that was a surprise to him, as he tried not to think about what Gibbs was telling him to think about. When had he stopped caring about anyone outside of his family? They were definitely highest on his list, but...did he really not care about the thousands of people in the military who could be affected?

"I don't care," Tim whispered.

"About what?"

"About anyone besides my family. I don't care." Tim looked at Gibbs. "The whole world could come crashing down and I wouldn't care, if my family was safe."

Tim sat down on a stool and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I don't know when that happened."

"When you let them confine your world to your work and keeping your family safe," Gibbs said.

Tim shrugged. It was true, and he couldn't be angry about that. He tensed a little when Gibbs pulled a stool over and sat beside him. He tensed again when he felt Gibbs put a hand on his back.

"You have a chance to get rid of that, Tim. You have a chance to start really _thinking_ about what you're going to do with your life. I'm guessing you haven't done that."

"Didn't have a choice," Tim said.

"Maybe not."

"I had to choose between Mr. Orlen and these other people who were a lot scarier than Mr. Orlen. Mr. Orlen would...not really help or anything, but he never threatened me. I chose him."

"That's not a real choice."

"Lesser of two evils. That's all there is. No good. Just something that's not as bad...but when I chose, I just wanted to get out of that room. Nothing good ever happens in there. Every time I've gone in, things have got worse."

Tim was surprised to notice that Gibbs wasn't taking his hand away. He wasn't saying much. He was just sitting there. Listening. Erin had listened. She had cared...and she had died. Tim got up and walked away from Gibbs. He shook his head.

"I don't want to be responsible for anyone else dying."

"Orlen's death is not your fault."

"Erin's death is."

"No. Someone else killed her."

"Because I put her in his path."

"You didn't kill her."

"Still my fault...and if I start telling you about what I know...or my family...or Dr. Mallard...or anyone else who is insisting that they help me...they'll die, too."

"No."

Gibbs stood up and walked over, not letting Tim get away from him, not letting him isolate himself again.

"You need to stop thinking like that. If you don't, you're not going to make it."

"Make it where?" Tim asked. "Where do you think I'm going to go?"

Gibbs smiled.

"Anywhere but there."

Tim smiled a little. "I don't want to risk it."

"It's time to take a risk."

"Can't I go a little slower?"

"No," Gibbs said, becoming serious. "While I don't think they're as all-powerful as you do, I do think they're probably dangerous. You're not getting away from them just by quitting."

"What do you think they'll do, then?"

"Kill you."

That was blunt. Tim wasn't used to the way Gibbs approached things.

"Why? After thirteen years? Why kill me now? They've had every chance before and never did it."

"Sounds to me like you know things they don't want getting out. Even now. You're out of their control. ...and here's something else to think about."

"What?"

"The more people who know about it, the safer we all are because it gets harder to keep a secret when it gets spread around."

"You're still trying to get me to talk about it."

"Yep."

"I don't want to," Tim said. "I don't want anyone to know. It's too dangerous."

"Only you knowing is a lot _more_ dangerous."

Tim stared at the wall.

"Tim, do you _really_ want to keep this to yourself? Or is it just fear? Because if it's just fear, you need to fight that battle. Stop assuming you can't."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"They've been down there for a while," Joan said. "What's going on?"

"I'd guess that Gibbs is using his special touch to force McGee to start talking," Tony said.

"Force?"

"Convince would be a better term," Ziva said, glaring at Tony.

The door to the basement opened, and Tim stepped out, looking, frankly, a little frightened. Loren moved to him quickly.

"Tim?"

"It's okay," Tim said softly.

"Tim has something to tell us."

"I don't want to," Tim said.

"What is it?" Loren asked. "Tim, what is it?"

"I saw something I shouldn't have seen," he said.

"When?"

"When I hacked DARPA the first time."

Tim wasn't looking at his family. His eyes were continually moving to the windows and around the room.

"Tim, sit down. Look at me," Loren said.

He looked at Gibbs for a moment but he chose to focus on his son instead. He cared about Tim's well-being, and he didn't look well at all.

Tim allowed himself to be seated at a table.

"What did you see?"

"The people who hired me..."

"What?"

Tim looked at Loren but then stared at the table.

"They're developing bioweapons."

"What? That's illegal."

"I know. They've been working on it for years. They're almost done. I've been helping them. That's part of what I do for them."

"I can't believe that the government is..."

"They're not the government," Tim said softly.

"Then, what are they?"

"They're going to sell what they've been doing...to the highest bidder."

"What? How are they getting away with this?" Loren asked. He'd more or less forgotten everyone else in the room. He was focused only on Tim.

"They're careful. They have me doing regular work, too. Nothing goes on the books. Mr. Orlen kept everything organized."

Loren wanted to demand what Tim had been thinking...but he knew. Tim was thinking that he had no other option. So he did whatever was asked of him.

"How long have they been working on this?"

And then, Tim surprised him. Tim seemed broken, submissive, almost...but he smiled a little at the table.

"Longer than they would have been without me."

"What do you mean?"

"I slowed them down a little. They're just...really patient."

"How long?"

"Fifteen years."

"That long?" Loren asked, appalled.

Tim nodded.

"What are they doing?"

"Tests."

Loren sat back and looked at the others in the room. He wanted to send Sarah out, at least, but he could see by the expression on her face that getting her out of the room would be next to impossible. She rarely listened to him on the best of days. The others...well, he couldn't control them. Gibbs looked at him and raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to go on. Tim was responding and who knew how long this would last. He looked back at Tim, careful to keep any condemnation out of his voice. Tim would clam up, he was sure, if he started to imply any of this was Tim's fault.

"What kind of tests, Tim?"

"Human tests...kind of like some of the ones DoD did in the sixties. Like Project 112."

"What's that?" Tony asked.

"It was a program that tested human, animal and plant reactions to chemical and biological warfare. Some of the human test subjects didn't even know they were being tested," Loren said, not taking his eyes off his son.

"Like now," Tim said softly.

"Human tests?"

"Human, animal, plant...insect...all that they can, only this is a test to see how bad it can get. Most of their subjects are homeless or else...in other countries."

"They have that much control?"

Tim nodded. "They're still operating as if they were part of DARPA. They have access to funding, to assistance...and it's top secret. No one knows except the people directly involved. Like me."

"How did they succeed at this?"

"Because they're careful and they have people who can cover up for them. Like me."

Loren grabbed Tim's arm.

"Tim...have you been doing this all along?"

Tim nodded. Loren was horrified. His son had been seeing things about illegal biological warfare...since he was seventeen years old. He was shocked to the core that he hadn't known just what was happening.

"It's not what I was always doing. I did normal stuff, too. But this was what I always went back to. Erin and I weren't..."

Loren hated knowing this, hated that his son had been used in such a way...and hated that it was his fault to some degree.

"Tim...I am..._so _sorry."

Tim shook his head.

"No, Dad. This isn't your fault. I'm the one who put myself in their path."

"To stop me from forcing you to do something you didn't want. I wish I had listened to you, really listened. I didn't and I'm sorry."

Tim just shook his head again. Loren made him look up. Tim was still afraid...and a little ashamed. Something stirred inside Loren. He wasn't just angry at what had happened to Tim. He was angry at what these men were planning on doing to his country. For the first time in years...since he had seen what his ambition and determination had wrought on his family, Loren felt a desire to do more than was required by his position.

"Tim...we're going to stop this. We're going to stop what they're doing. They're traitors and that won't stand. What they've done to you is horrible, what they're doing in general is worse. There is nothing you can say to me now to stop me from being involved."

"But...Dad...they..."

"How is it that no one ever saw what they were doing, Tim?" Loren interrupted, his voice stern. "What was it that you were able to do to block any scrutiny? I know DARPA has oversight."

"It's all about layers," Tim said, unconsciously straightening in response to his father's tone. "How many layers of protection can I put over something. How many passwords. How many blocks. How important does it look like it is. _What _does it look like it is. I can make it look like something it's not. It just takes a little knowledge of biology and engineering."

Loren was surprised at that.

"What do you mean?"

"I've done some studying on other things so that I could do my job better...and because it was interesting...stuff I didn't know."

"Okay...so...what we need to do now is figure out what the next step is going to be. You've told us what's going on and how they've used you. Now..." Loren looked at Gibbs. "...Now, Agent Gibbs, we need to figure out how to expose these people and keep my son safe."

"Dad..."

"No. This is one time when I'm not going to stand back, Tim. This isn't just about you. This isn't just about us. This is about the whole country, potentially. I can't, in good conscience, sit here and let that go on." Loren looked at Tim sternly. "And neither can you, son. You aren't in the Navy, but that doesn't mean you can watch this happening anymore. I can understand why you did it when you were in it alone, but you're not now. Not by a long shot and I'd sooner step into the line of fire myself than let this be the way things stay."

He saw Tim's rejection of that idea, but Loren got to his feet and looked at the people in the room. Not exactly the kind of troops he was used to having around him, and he knew that he couldn't be the one in charge. He knew too little about what could be done from the law enforcement end.

...but he could make sure they all knew that this wasn't an idle declaration on his side. When he committed himself, he went all the way.

"What is the first step, Agent Gibbs?" he asked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He had a weapon he used for times like these. Luckily, they didn't come up often, but often enough that it was useful to have a weapon suitable to the circumstances. He had been a sniper in another life. A very good sniper. He had enjoyed the game of tracking his targets and taking them out at the moment they least expected it.

It wasn't a sniper rifle as such. Those would be too obvious. This was a weapon he'd designed himself. It gave him good distance, had perfect sights, and wasn't as big as a sniper rifle. He didn't need to be a mile away. He needed to be close enough to be watching what was being done.

He was. He was in a car on the street. He just needed one shot. One clear shot and their problem would go away, hopefully before Tim had overcome his resistance to ask for help and had spilled his guts.

The man smiled. He'd be spilling something else soon enough. He was glad that his plan had been accepted. It would almost be a shame to have it over so soon.

It had been too long since he'd had prey.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"The first step is going to be getting as much as we can on these guys. Solid evidence, not just hearsay."

"Meaning what?" Loren asked.

"Meaning, among other things, that we need someone to help us hack into DARPA and find them," Gibbs said, looking at Tim.

Tim blanched.

"What? No! No...No...I can't do that. No. I...I...I..."

There was nothing short of pure terror on Tim's face at the idea of hacking into DARPA again. Gibbs couldn't blame him. In fact, Gibbs had a lot of sympathy for Tim's predicament, but they didn't have time for him to recover as he should. They needed to move fast.

"Yes, you can. You did it when you were seventeen years old. You can do it again, probably faster than you did before," Gibbs said.

Tim got to his feet.

"No, Agent Gibbs! I won't do that again. Never again. Ever. No."

Suddenly, Tim bolted for the door. Gibbs had to admit that he wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready for Tim to literally run away from them. Resistance was one thing. Flight was a whole other ball of wax. That was the kind of impulsive thing a panicky teenager would do, not a mature adult. Gibbs darted after him, but Tim got to the front door and pulled it open before Gibbs could stop him.

That was when he heard the bullet. Just one, but that was enough.

That was when he saw Tim stagger backwards against the door and slide down to the floor, leaving a trail of blood as he did so.

"Tim!"

"Stay back!" Gibbs ordered and crouched down. He wasn't going to present another target if he didn't have to. As he scanned for the attacker, he mentally cursed his carelessness. He should have realized that these people had the same amount of time Tim had...and they were dedicated to keeping their secret. Of course, they could move quickly enough to take him out. He also should have realized that Tim was still very much in their control and that he wasn't thinking clearly enough to deal with the kinds of demands Gibbs was making. He'd already seen how much Tim's life was centered on his workplace and the people who kept him there. Even now, Tim was still flinching at loud noises and thinking they were omnipotent. Gibbs should have known that he wouldn't be able to deal with a demand to recreate what had put him in the situation in the first place. He should have realized all that. ...but it was too late to change it, now.

Belatedly, he heard Tim's trembling breathing, although, to his credit, he wasn't making any other noise.

A car drove away...too fast for Gibbs to get a license plate.

He turned to Tim. There was a lot of blood...and a hole in the door. Through-and-through. Tim was just sitting there, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. His eyes were open and he was staring at Gibbs. He was making no effort to stop the bleeding. The shirt Tony had bought for him had a spreading blood stain centered just below Tim's shoulder. That was a bad place to get shot. There were a lot of nerves and muscles and vessels in that area.

...and Tim was just sitting there.

Gibbs reached out and grabbed hold of Tim and pulled him back inside and then closed the door. Tim made no resistance. He was clearly in pain but he also seemed to be somehow separated from everything that had just happened, as if he didn't even know what was going on.

"D-Dad?" he whispered.

Gibbs looked back over his shoulder and saw Tony physically keeping Loren from getting to his son. He lay Tim on the floor.

"Tony...let him go."

Loren rushed over, Ducky close behind.

"Dad?" Tim whispered again.

"I'm right here, Tim."

"Did he get you? Are you shot?"

Loren looked at Gibbs for just a moment, his expression one of anguish.

"No, Tim. You are."

"The gun...I heard...a shot."

Gibbs began pressing down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Tim barely reacted to it. He was just staring vacantly at the ceiling.

"I'll call for an ambulance, Boss," Tony said.

"No. No ambulance."

"He's been shot, Agent Gibbs!" Loren said angrily.

"And we have no way of knowing just how much pull these people have. We can't control what they do. If we take him to a hospital, they might be able to find him and track him."

"If we don't get him treated, my son could die!"

Gibbs looked at Ducky and raised an eyebrow.

"Jethro..." Ducky said weakly.

"Until we have some sort of leverage, we don't have a choice, Ducky. It's not ideal but it'll have to do."

"My domain is for those who have already died. It's not to treat the living."

"What are you talking about?" Joan demanded. "Where are you going to take him?"

"To NCIS. To Autopsy."

"I'm hardly qualified to do surgery on a living man," Ducky protested. "It's been _years_."

"If we can't protect him and get him some help, he'll be dead anyway," Gibbs said. "We don't know how many people are after him. We don't know just how much power they have behind them. We don't even know what these people _look _like because we haven't had the chance to ask him. ...but we _do_ know just how far they're willing to go to protect their secret. They've committed murder once and just tried to make it twice. Ducky, we don't have a choice right now!"

Ducky sighed.

"Very well. I'll call Mr. Palmer and get him there as well. He is at least in medical school. We'd best get him there quickly. I have no way of knowing how much internal damage there is at this point. Artery?"

"I don't think so. Blood's not the right color."

"Good."

"How do you want to do this?" Loren asked.

"We'll get him into my car and drive over as quickly as we can. Tony and Ziva will drive in their own cars and keep an eye out for anyone following us."

Loren nodded and looked back to where Joan was holding Sarah in place.

"Joan, you and Sarah go with the other agents. I'll go with Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard with Tim."

Gibbs was interested in the level of command that came into Loren's voice. He wasn't just a father talking to his family. He was an admiral giving orders. Sarah started to protest, but Joan shushed her and nodded.

"We'll see you there," she said softly.

All through this, Tim was just lying there, staring off into space, barely reacting at all. The only indication of the trauma was his heavy breathing.

"Tim, can you hear me?" Loren asked.

Tim didn't respond.

"We're taking you to NCIS. We're going to take care of you, Tim."

Gibbs kept up the pressure on Tim's shoulder while Loren helped him up. Tim sagged heavily against his father, but stayed on his feet, more or less. They got him to the car. Loren sat on one side of him and Ducky sat on the other while Gibbs drove.

"Dr. Mallard...what's wrong with him...besides the wound?" Loren asked.

"A reaction to repeated trauma would be my best guess."

"Tim hasn't been shot before."

"But a gun has been fired in his presence before...under conditions that frightened him enough that the very appearance of a gun terrified him."

"Dad...are you okay?" Tim asked again in that same whispery voice.

"I'm fine, Tim. No one else got hurt. We're going to take care of you."

"He hasn't had the time necessary to deal with everything that's gone on," Ducky said softly. "I'm afraid that whatever is going through his mind has little to do with the reality of this situation."

"Can you help him, Dr. Mallard?"

"I will do my level best. We're fortunate that no arteries were severed. If that had happened, he'd likely be dead already."

"Oh."

Gibbs focused on the road and on making sure no one was following them. Tony was in front. Ziva was behind. Contrary to what Loren might believe, Gibbs was not sure at all that everything would work out. He just feared that if they took Tim to a hospital, the official reports would get to the people who were after him and now that they had definite proof that Tim's life was no longer of value, they couldn't take any chances.

"Keep speaking to your son, Admiral McGee. He apparently needs to hear your voice to be sure that you're safe."

"I'm not in danger, Dr. Mallard," Loren said, angrily. "I'm not the one who–"

"Your son _thinks _you are," Ducky interrupted. "_That_ is what matters, Admiral. Reality has no place here. These people told him that he was supposed to remember that _you_ could have been a victim. He took that to heart and it's coming out now. You can't _order_ him to be all right."

There was a moment of silence.

"Dad?"

"I'm...I'm right here, Tim. I'm safe. Don't worry. None of us are in any danger."

The drive to NCIS seemed to take forever, but Gibbs got them there in record time. He drove around to the Autopsy garage so that they could get Tim inside as quickly as possible. He was surprised to see Jimmy there waiting for them...with a gurney all ready. He rolled it over to them as soon as the car came to a stop.

"Mr. Palmer, is everything prepared?"

"As good as I could get it, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said with some trepidation. "I sterilized all the tools and the table, and I set it up as best as I could to confine the space a little bit. Do you want to x-ray first?"

"No. We need to get in and stop any internal bleeding first. Then, we can determine just how much damage has been done. Were you able to get any help from the hospital?"

"Some. No real anesthesia, just local."

"That will have to do."

Gibbs helped pull Tim out of the car and onto the gurney.

"Dad?"

"I'm right here, Tim."

They got him into Autopsy and onto a table. Ducky administered the local anesthesia and looked at Gibbs. He didn't want to be responsible for trying to save Tim. This was far more serious than stitches or a rash. Tim could die or lose all movement in his right arm if something went wrong. Still, Gibbs was convinced that this was the better option, that it would be safer to do it here rather than at a hospital where they could find Tim and get to him more easily.

"Go on, Duck."

Ducky nodded reluctantly.

"Admiral McGee, I'll need you to hold your son still. While I'm working, I'll be in the vicinity of a lot of nerves, blood vessels, tendons...and any mistake could be fatal or permanently damaging. Timothy seems to be disconnected at the moment and he may not understand the need to stay still. You will have to keep him from moving around. Talk to him, but do not distract Mr. Palmer and myself while we're working. If you can do that, you are welcome to stay. If not, I'll get Jethro to do it instead. Understood?"

"I understand. You're in charge here."

"Good. Mr. Palmer, let's not waste any time."

As quickly as they could, they scrubbed in. Ducky took a scalpel in hand and bent over to begin the delicate work.

Gibbs went back to the garage to wrangle the rest of them and make sure they stayed away until the surgery was done.

...and he prayed that he hadn't made a mistake and that this was really the best chance Tim had for surviving.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He grinned. One wasn't supposed to play with one's food, of course, but he hadn't been able to resist delaying the inevitable for a little while. At the last second, he had moved from a sure kill shot to the arm. Now, that could still lead to death if his aim had been off, but he had tried to shoot in an area with fewer potentially-fatal injuries. It was a moment of pure bliss when he had watched Tim slide down the door. He had enjoyed the evidence of his handiwork for a few seconds before driving away. It wouldn't do to be caught right now. They'd be more careful, of course, and that meant more of a challenge. That would have been too easy. He needed to get Tim in the right way. Years of careful manipulation, derailed by these idiots he'd run to. It wasn't enough just to kill him. He wanted _trauma_ for all concerned. He had said that Tim needed to die, and it was true, but he could have a little fun, first.

However, he did have a job to do and that meant he couldn't put it off forever. One moment of enjoyment before getting down to business.

Another smile. Where would they go next? Hospital? Or somewhere unorthodox? He rather thought that they'd be unorthodox. They'd already proven to be extremely resourceful. He'd have to see.

...and make more plans.

It didn't get much better than this.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Ducky sighed with relief and he saw Jimmy relax as well.

"That's crazy, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said softly. "I can't believe how well this turned out."

"What is it?" Loren asked.

Tim had slipped into unconsciousness which had worried his father quite a bit, but privately, Ducky had been glad of it because it meant less potential for twitches or other damaging movements. It was likely that the reality of what had happened started to set in for Tim and his body finally registered the injury. The surgery had gone relatively quickly.

"If the man who shot Timothy had been _trying_ to miss vital areas, he could hardly have done a better job. There is some damage to the muscles and tendons, of course, but he missed the brachial artery and nerve. All in all, I feel that what I'm seeing here is the best we could have hoped for. I'll do an x ray, just to be sure that I haven't missed anything, but I believe Mr. Palmer was correct in his summation. It's nearly unbelievable that Timothy could have been so fortunate."

Jimmy suppressed a small smile. This had been a first for him and a major relief that he hadn't botched it.

"What now?" Loren asked.

"Now, we close up and hope for the best...since we've got quite a bit of the best already. Mr. Palmer, if you would assist?"

Jimmy nodded. "Of course."

Carefully, they stitched up the exit and entrance wound on Tim's shoulder. Under Ducky's close supervision, Jimmy did the suturing himself. It wasn't his first time, but it _was_ his first time in this kind of situation...with someone like Admiral McGee hovering around. When it was done, Jimmy sat back with an audible sigh of relief.

"Well done, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said. "None could do better. Now, we should move him onto a softer surface than an autopsy slab. Jethro?"

Gibbs walked over and joined them in the restricted area.

"He doesn't have to stay in here, does he?" Loren asked. "No offense to you, Dr. Mallard, but..."

"None taken. This is a place for the dead, not the living, and Timothy is definitely living."

"We can get him somewhere else," Gibbs said. "Tony, you and Ziva get one of the cots and set it up in the evidence garage. It's not a whole lot better, but it's not Autopsy. It doesn't have windows; so they won't be able to find him there."

"How long will he stay here?"

"As long as it's necessary. I'm not going to put your son at risk."

Loren looked at Tim.

"I know...that's what I did when I chose to believe that there was nothing I could do to help him. It's like...I'm the one who shot him."

"You're not," Gibbs said. "Don't give the people who did this more power than they already have. They're still controlling your son's beliefs to some degree, and that's something we need to change. I didn't realize how powerful they still were in his mind and that was a big mistake on my part...but I didn't shoot your son and neither did you."

"What are the odds that there's going to be something wrong, something that you missed, Dr. Mallard?"

"We can only hope for the best. Once he awakens, we can see if he's able to move his arm, if he feels a lot of pain or none at all. I think we may be fortunate in avoiding permanent damage."

"All right. We can sit with him?"

"Of course. Don't rush him to wake up and when he does, keep him calm. That will likely mean that you have to reassure him that you're not hurt."

Loren hated that. He hated that helping his son meant allaying baseless worries about his own safety...but he nodded. He, Joan and Sarah followed as they moved Tim out of Autopsy and into the evidence garage. Tony and Ziva had quickly set up a cot for him. It wasn't amazing accommodations, but it was the best they had at the moment.

The McGees sat down beside Tim.

"Is he going to be okay?" Sarah asked softly as she stared at him.

"I hope so," Joan said.

She leaned down and kissed Tim's forehead.

"He'll come through it," she said. "Tim will make it. He survived surgery in a place like this. He'll wake up when he's ready."

Loren couldn't take his eyes off Tim, knowing now what he'd been going through, knowing that Tim had been manipulated so thoroughly for so many years. It was so hard accept that, beneath Tim's resigned, even accepting, exterior had been so much torment.

Tim remained unconscious for another hour. When he woke up, his eyes were clouded with pain and confusion.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Tim. I'm fine."

Loren hated saying it and he saw Sarah's irritation before she managed to mask it.

"What happened? I remember...there was...a gun."

"They shot you, Tim," Joan said. "The NCIS people brought you here and operated."

"Shot me?"

"Yes."

"Not you, Dad?" Tim asked.

"No, Tim. Not me. I'm not in danger. You are."

"I am? Why?" Tim asked.

"Because you know so much about what they've done."

"But they...said they'd...kill you."

"That was just an empty threat. I'm fine, Tim. Don't worry about me."

Tim was quiet for a few minutes. Loren thought he'd fallen asleep again, but suddenly he opened his eyes.

"Where is here?"

"NCIS Headquarters."

Tim looked around.

"Why here?"

"Because we don't know how far these people will go," Loren said.

"You're sure that it's not you they're after?" Tim asked.

Loren forced himself to smile.

"I'm not important enough to kill, Tim. There are more important people for them to go after. I'm in no danger."

"Then...why are you here?"

"Because of you. I told you that we were going to help you."

"But...Gibbs...he said that I..."

"He didn't know what you'd do."

"What _did_ I do?"

"You tried to run, Tim," Sarah said. "Gibbs asked for your help and you ran because you thought you had to protect _Dad_."

"Sarah, this is not the time," Joan said.

"When _will_ be the time, then?" Sarah demanded. "Tim, you almost got killed today, and you're worried about _Dad_? Nothing has ever happened to _Dad_ because of what you chose to do. You're the only one that's ever suffered for it."

Tim looked at her for a long moment without speaking...until she stopped her rant.

"Sarah, it's not Dad's fault. I don't really remember what happened before. It's kind of a blur in my head, but don't blame Dad."

"If he hadn't..."

"Stop!" Tim said, managing to be louder than he looked like he could. He actually tried to sit up. "Stop, Sarah. Don't tear us apart. I don't have anyone else besides my family." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, clearly feeling some pain. Then, he looked at Loren. "I've forgiven you for what happened when I was a teenager. It's been a long time. We don't need to talk about it anymore." He looked at Sarah. "Drop it, Sarah. Let it go. Haven't we suffered enough as a family for this?"

He fell back, wincing.

"I really got shot?"

"Yes, you did, Tim," Joan said.

"I really don't remember that. I remember hearing the gun, but that's all."

"I promise. You were shot."

Tim smiled weakly. "I believe you. What now?"

"Now, we let you recover a bit."

Tim surprised Loren by shaking his head.

"No. Now what?"

"We still need your help, Tim."

Tim took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Loren..." Joan began.

"I can't...can't do that again, Dad. I can't get in there."

"Yes, you can," Loren said as he put a hand on Joan's arm to quiet her. "You can, and you need to, Tim. Not just for this case. You need to do it for yourself. You need to do it for us."

"How will it affect you?" Tim asked.

"The safer you are, the safer we are, Tim. The better off you are, the happier we can be. And that means helping these NCIS people."

Tim's expression was more than one of reluctance. It was one of terror. Over the years, his hacking into DARPA had become the most horrific choice in the world, something that he could never do again without inviting some kind of doom. More than anything else, this was a mindless terror. Bringing it up meant instant fear. Loren suddenly realized that he had never had the opportunity to help his son through these moments of fear. Everyone faced them at some point, but usually, they didn't have to face them alone and they had someone there to tell them that it wasn't as frightening as they thought it was. Loren had squandered Tim's earlier years and then had lost the chance when Tim got older. Instead, what Tim had was people telling him in no uncertain terms that, yes, it _was_ that frightening and that dangerous and stepping out of line in any way was going to lead to death. All those lost years, lost experiences, time he could have spent with his only son.

This was his chance to help Tim get past this. Loren looked at Joan.

"Tim and I need to talk, Joan."

Joan nodded and pulled Sarah to her feet and over to the far side of the evidence garage. Loren leaned over and helped Tim sit up. It took a few moments to get him into a moderately comfortable position.

"Tim..." he began, not sure of what he should say.

"No, Dad," Tim said softly. "No. Don't you remember how that turned out last time?"

"But I'm listening and I'm doing what's best for you, not what's best for me."

"But you're ignoring me again!" Tim said. "I'm telling you no, and this time, you're still saying that I have to do what _you_ say."

"That's because, Tim, this time, you're not really thinking, not like you were before. You were breaking out of the box I'd forced you into. This time, you're fighting to stay inside the box with the man-eating tigers, and I can't leave you there."

"Why not?" Tim asked. "It's easy to stay."

"Because no parent can leave their child in danger, even if the child is insisting. You know what will happen if you go back, if you try to avoid confronting them. You'll die, Tim. If you fight back, you can stop these people from hurting you...and from hurting a lot of other people."

"But what about _you_?"

"I already told you that I'm in no danger."

"So far."

"Do you know what I regret most about all this that's happened?"

"No."

Loren shook his head.

"It took a lot of courage for you to do what you did back then. You tried to stand up to me, but you couldn't and so you made a plan and implemented it perfectly."

"Not quite perfectly."

"Okay, not quite perfect, but the years after that seemed to have crushed that daring and that courage right out of you. You're downtrodden, beaten, and afraid. There's no courage. And I am so sorry for that, Tim."

Tim's brow furrowed at him.

"You don't think it took courage to stay there?"

"No, I don't think it did, Tim. It took fear, and you have that in spades."

Loren was actually glad to see some irritation in Tim's eyes.

"It would have taken courage to fight back, but fear is dictating everything in your life. You would even go back to people who have shown that they're willing to kill just out of fear of others getting hurt. Self-sacrifice is all well and good, but it's pointless in this case because we know what happened to you, and now we know what's going on to some degree. That means that if you die, you've escaped the fear and the rest of us are left picking up the pieces. Is that what you're trying to do, Tim? Are you trying to give up in a way that no one can possibly pull you back? I didn't think my son would ever try to save himself at the expense of others."

"What do you think I've been doing all these years, Dad? I've been working with people who terrify me! People who hold all the cards, whose most effective threat was to tell me how _you_ could have been hurt if I didn't do what they said! I wasn't trying to save myself!"

"And yet, Tim, you avoided any possibility of being free of them. So...how much of it is because of how much control they have over you and how much is because you've bought into the idea that this is a just punishment for what you did?"

Tim was quiet.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, son!" Loren said.

He felt some satisfaction at Tim's grimace. That was a statement which had been spoken more than once when Tim had tried to avoid getting into any kind of argument. He would stand there mutely, usually staring at his feet.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because I don't think you've actually thought about it. It's understandable, maybe, but _think_, Tim. You're way too smart just to react. Think!"

Tim was quiet again. He looked away, and Loren didn't push the eye contact. He really did want to see the fire Tim had possessed when he was younger. It was something he hadn't really appreciated back then. Now, he hoped that it was just flickering, not completely out.

"I feel like a little kid every time I have to go into that room," Tim whispered after a couple of minutes.

"What room?"

"Room 23. The room where they always were, where...Mr. Orlen was shot...where they always threatened. Every time I went in there... They scare me, Dad. I'll admit it. I'm terrified of them. I spent a long time where all I wanted was to stay out of that room, to stay away from them. I did that by doing exactly what they wanted. I toe the line, Dad."

"You're not going to get out that way, and you told me that you want to. Were you lying?"

"No."

"Then, Tim, you need to fight your fears. Stop expecting the worst. Start _doing_ something about it!"

"Like hacking into DARPA again?"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Think, Tim. Don't just react. Think about it."

"How will this help?"

"It will let you get out of the mindset that had you running mindlessly into a bullet! Tim, your reactions are more dangerous than the people who control you! You are too strong to let them get to you. You need to stop letting them have that power."

Tim looked up at the ceiling with a sheen of tears in his eyes.

"I don't know how, Dad."

"Just let these NCIS people help you. They're so determined to do it, and I don't even know why."

"Because of Erin," Tim said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I accused them of letting her get killed...but really, it was my fault."

"No, Tim. It's not your fault."

"People who come near me die, Dad. Kate...Erin...Mr. Orlen... Who's next?"

"You can't think that way. Pull yourself out of that. Think about something else. What do you want to do with your life?"

"I wanted to go to college, Dad, but I can't."

"I know."

Tim looked around the room.

"I think I could have liked working someplace like this."

"Maybe you can...when this is over."

Tim rubbed his shoulder and winced.

"Yeah. Over."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Ducky was waiting to be summoned to the evidence garage, hoping for the best when he checked Tim's wound. There was more to this tangle than Tim's shoulder, unfortunately. Physical injuries were generally easy enough to deal with, but the psychological damage which hadn't been apparent in their first interactions with Tim, was much more difficult. Tim himself more than likely hadn't been aware of the damage done because it was all he had known for nearly half his life. It wasn't until his whole world had been shaken, first by Erin's death and then by Mr. Orlen's shocking murder, that he had been forced face that damage, and he had momentarily broken because of it. He was now trying to recover from it, but, understandably, his first instinct was to try and get back to what he'd had before by resetting his life to its previous incarnation.

Hopefully, they had managed to help him through that instinct and now they could move forward, helping Tim get free of his controllers. He had been waiting, but now, he thought that perhaps he shouldn't wait to be summoned. Tim might appreciate an interest that wasn't confined to when people were asked to look in on him.

He got on the elevator and went down. When he got off, he saw Joan and Sarah talking quietly in one corner of the garage. Loren was sitting beside Tim who was actually sitting up...well, he was _propped_ up. He looked tired and probably was in more than a little pain. He looked distinctly wary when Ducky first approached, but Ducky was relieved to note that the expression faded when he saw who it was.

Some progress, no matter how minor.

"Good evening," Ducky said with an encouraging smile. "I've come to check on my patient and I think you would probably appreciate some relief from the pain, Timothy."

Tim nodded mutely, but Loren stood up.

"I'll get out of your way, Dr. Mallard. Tim?"

There was something significant in the way he said Tim's name. There was an unspoken question there. Tim looked away for a few seconds and then looked back and nodded.

"Okay. Dr. Mallard, do you know where Agent Gibbs is?"

"I believe he's up in the bullpen. Two floors up."

"Thank you."

Loren went and got on the elevator, leaving Ducky alone with Tim for the moment. Sarah and Joan had looked over but had stayed where they were.

"Well, Timothy, how are you feeling?"

Tim shrugged his uninjured shoulder and said nothing.

"I am speaking only of your physical injury for the moment, lad. Nothing more, and I do need to know that."

Tim took a breath.

"Dr. Mallard...why am I so screwed up in my head? I didn't think there was all this mess in there. My life wasn't great, but it was fine. For thirteen years it was fine. I could deal with it, even knowing what they were doing. I could deal with it. Why is it not okay now?"

"Because you're actually dealing with it now. Before you weren't. Out of necessity, you were withdrawing from all those complicated emotions in order to protect yourself and those you loved. That's no longer possible, and believe it or not, I understand why you would take the seemingly-strange step of trying to go back to the one place you shouldn't be allowed to go."

"You do?"

"Yes. I believe so."

Tim looked at his lap.

"Could you tell me why? Because I still want to. Go back there. I'm just thinking about it right now instead of doing it. ...and I don't think I could get up right now."

Ducky smiled and took a seat on Tim's injured side. He began to examine the wound, making sure that all was well on the surface.

"Because you don't know how to deal with the fact that there is so much danger now. You had two horrible experiences in quick succession. The loss of your girlfriend and then the murder of Mr. Orlen. It was a terrible way of breaking the routine you'd set up in your life. I do wish that you had been shaken out of your complacency in a less shocking manner, but we rarely get to choose those kinds of events in our lives. Now, how is your shoulder feeling?"

"It hurts," Tim said, sounding a bit numb.

"Can you move it at all?"

"I don't know. I haven't tried."

"Well, do so now, but very gently. If you have range of motion at all, that's good enough for now. We don't need to risk pulling your stitches."

Tim nodded and lifted his arm a little. Then, he moved it to either side, very carefully.

"Any numbness?"

Tim actually laughed a little.

"No. I'm feeling it very well."

Ducky laughed in response.

"The pain isn't pleasant, I know, but it's a good thing that you can feel it. That means we did it all correctly in a situation that was less than ideal."

"Why here?"

"Because Agent Gibbs doesn't feel that it is in your best interests to go to a hospital where the people who attacked you before might be able to get to you."

"Why does he care?"

"Because he cares about anyone who comes into his circle who needs help...as you so desperately do."

Tim didn't look at him. He hadn't yet since they'd been talking.

"You seem much less sure of yourself than you were when we first met."

"I hadn't seen someone killed before, Dr. Mallard."

"If you had to choose one of them, which would you say was worse? Seeing Mr. Orlen murdered or losing Erin?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just think about it and answer."

Tim was quiet for a long time, and Ducky thought that he wouldn't answer. It was a deeper question than Tim might realize. If he chose Mr. Orlen's death as worse, that meant that, even though he'd lost the woman he loved, he was still controlled by the fear more than anything else. If he chose Erin's death as worse, he was actually pulling himself away from the control they had over him and seeing the strength of the emotional loss.

"I want to say Mr. Orlen because it was so...awful...so frightening...horrible," Tim said softly. "But I can't forget how I felt when Erin died. It was like a piece of my soul was ripped out. I had to hear her screaming over the phone. I don't know which was worse. Erin hurt more. Infinitely more. Mr. Orlen scared me more. I don't know which is worse."

"Good answer, actually."

"There's a _good_ answer?"

"Yes, there is. I would not have been surprised if you had chosen to make your fear worse than your pain, but the fact that you are undecided gives me hope. I wish we could give you the time you need to fully recover from this, Timothy, but I don't know that we can. I have the feeling that events are going to accelerate."

"I already told my dad that I would help Agent Gibbs, but it scares me."

"Why is that?"

"Because my decision to hack DARPA ruined my life. It took my life away from me. I'm afraid of doing that again. I'm _really_ afraid of doing that."

Do you think that you won't be able to do it?"

Tim shook his head.

"No. I know I can. I designed a lot of the security they use right now. I know where everything Agent Gibbs wants is stored. I've been working with it for more than a decade. I can do all of that. I can do what he wants."

"It's more than helping him. It's helping yourself."

"I don't care about helping myself."

"You say that, but that's not true. You're _afraid_ of helping yourself because others might be hurt, but you _want_ to help yourself."

Tim said nothing against that.

"There's nothing in shameful in that, Timothy. I hope you realize that."

Tim said nothing again.

Ducky smiled.

"Now, would you like some painkillers?"

"Will they let me work still?"

"Yes," Ducky said, although he wasn't sure of that. Tim needed the pain relief and while Gibbs would want him to work, he wouldn't begrudge Tim some time pain free. Still, he couldn't lie outright. "When it is time for you to work, you'll be ready."

"Okay."

Ducky administered the analgesic and then sat beside Tim for a few minutes. As Ducky had thought, Tim began to droop rather quickly. He'd been through a lot. It was no wonder he was easily tired. If Gibbs wanted him now, well, Ducky would tell him he had to wait. Tim was slowly coming around, but pushing him too far, too fast, would only hinder his mental recovery, as well as his physical. They didn't have unlimited time, but they had some and Tim would get it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Loren looked around when he got up to the bullpen. He'd never been in this building, and he hated being at a disadvantage. He saw Agent DiNozzo.

"Where is Agent Gibbs?" he demanded.

"Right here, Admiral," Gibbs said, appearing from nowhere, it seemed.

"I need to speak with you."

"Yes, sir," Gibbs said, almost with a smile. He gestured toward the elevator.

Tony said nothing but he looked surprised. Loren supposed that he was being a bit overbearing, but it was easier to be an admiral than simply a worried father. Worried fathers couldn't do much. Admirals could.

They got on the elevator and then, Loren was surprised when Gibbs reached out and flicked a switch...turning the elevator _off_.

"What are you doing?" Loren asked.

"Most secure place in the building. What do you want?"

"I need to know how far you're going to push my son."

"Are you asking as his father or as an admiral? Sir?"

Loren was a little miffed...and a little embarrassed if he was honest with himself. He knew he'd fallen back on what was easier.

"I'm both, Agent Gibbs."

"But the answer I give will be different depending on what role you're playing."

"I don't play roles," Loren said. "I am both. They both define me."

"You outrank me, Admiral McGee."

"Stop playing games, Agent Gibbs. This is about my son. This is not about who has authority. I am asking you a simple question."

"I want to be sure I understand where you're coming from. You aren't acting like a father concerned for his son. You're acting like an admiral wanting to get information about his command. So which is it?"

Loren couldn't understand why Gibbs was doing this. It didn't make any sense.

"Tim is my son, Agent Gibbs. He has lived a life that has been a lot worse than he ever let me know. It is my responsibility to take care of him as much as he needs until he's free. I became an admiral when I'd forgotten what the most important part of my life is. I'm sure you don't know how that feels. To stand there and see your son caught in a trap that he thought would be better than what you had planned for him. Nearly half of his life has been a nightmare, Agent Gibbs! I know that there are steps he'll have to take before he's ready, but I'm not going to stand aside if I think what you're doing isn't necessary. So I need to know what you're going to do, what you're going to try and demand of him. Understand?"

To his surprise, Gibbs suddenly smiled.

"I do understand," he said and stuck out his hand. "Jethro."

Loren raised an eyebrow and then shook the proffered hand.

"Loren."

"Nice to meet you."

"My question still stands."

"I'm going to ask your son to hack DARPA, to pull that information and let me know how high up this goes. Because if it's just these people, then we stand a very good chance of taking them down. We can take the evidence to the higher-ups and get them out of the way. If it includes people in power, we'll have a harder time. But we _need_ to know what and who we're dealing with. There's a man out there who intentionally did _not_ kill your son."

"Intentionally?"

"I was a sniper. I know how they work. Tim presented a perfect target. He paused in the doorway. Gave him a clean shot. Any skilled sniper would have killed him, and instead, he chose to shoot your son in a place that wouldn't kill him. He's toying with us, but that means that it's more than just a job. He's enjoying himself which is what you're _not_ supposed to do as a sniper. We need to find out who this is because if he gets another shot, he'll take it and it probably will be lethal."

Loren nodded in acceptance of Gibbs' summation.

"Tim has said he'll help, but he's still terrified. He's hurting from that bullet, and he's really not ready to be pushed too hard."

"He already knows what I need from him, and I'm not doing this for myself. He needs to do this to free himself."

Loren sighed.

"I don't think that Tim wants to be saved, not really. He still doesn't think he deserves it. I had never realized how bad it was until I saw him willing to run away from you just to avoid what you asked of him, when I saw him start to shake with fear just because I asked him about what he'd been doing. This isn't what I thought. If I had known how bad it would be for him..."

"You would have fought for him."

"Tooth and nail if necessary," Loren said, staring at the wall of the elevator. "At least, that's what I tell myself. But, of course, when the actual moment was there, I was willing to let a seventeen-year-old boy sacrifice himself to preserve the family name."

"Is that really what you were thinking?"

"I don't know, anymore. I don't even know if it matters. That moment, awful as it was, opened my eyes to who my son was, how different he was from me, but I didn't really get a chance to use that knowledge because I lost him in the same moment." He sighed.

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't think you lost him."

"You don't?"

"No. If you had, he wouldn't be worried about you. He'd worry about someone else. _You're_ the one they must have been using to control him. It wouldn't have worked if you'd lost him."

Loren smiled slightly.

"I'm not sure that makes it any better."

"I'm not sure it should, but you haven't lost your son."

That meant a lot more than it should considering that it was coming from a virtual stranger. How well could Gibbs really know Tim? ...but at the same time, it was coming from a disinterested party who had no reason to make him feel better.

"Tim probably isn't ready to work right away," he said, moving on from the emotional stuff and back to the things he could control, back to the parts of this situation that didn't lead to painful things.

"I'd be surprised if he was. Anything else you need to get off your chest?"

Loren smiled.

"Not that I know of."

"Your daughter?"

Loren took a deep breath.

"That's a complication you can't help with directly, Agent Gibbs. As long as Tim is in this position, there's nothing anyone can do to fix that particular relationship. Sarah won't forgive me completely until this is over."

"Does she understand everything?"

"Grudgingly, yes," Loren said with a grimace. "But you should know that knowing reality doesn't necessarily mean anything. She's afraid of what might happen to Tim. She's afraid of losing him, and that manifests itself in attacks on the most convenient target: me. I'm well used to that by now, and I know well enough that she won't forgive me until Tim is free. Maybe not even then. Sarah is good at holding grudges. There's nothing you can do about that. It's a family matter only."

He didn't want to get into that particular tangle. He was willing to talk about Tim because that affected them both, but Sarah...he was used to it, but he didn't like it. Sometimes, he thought about how Sarah would hang on him when she was a child, wanting his attention. It was a far cry from the angry young woman she'd become. Still, she was justified in her feelings and Loren was willing to be a target. He looked at the control panel.

"How do you turn this thing back on?" he asked.

Gibbs reached around him and flipped the appropriate switch. The elevator came to life and resumed moving. They got off in the bullpen.

"When Tim is ready, let me know," Gibbs said.

"Will do. Thank you," Loren said.

He headed back to the evidence garage.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Gibbs watched Loren go and then looked over at Tony and Ziva.

"Well?" Tony asked. "What did he want?"

Gibbs just smiled.

"You find anything?" he asked.

"No. But if this is as secret as it seems to be, then, it'll be strange if _we_ can get anything," Tony said.

"But Abby is working on the bullet and she said that it is not typical. Perhaps we will get something from that," Ziva added.

"Maybe," Tony said skeptically, "but if this is about DARPA, then we're not getting anywhere until McGee gets us there."

It was true and there was no point in trying to deny it. This wasn't a usual investigation. In order to make progress, they needed Tim to get into DARPA and get them the evidence they needed. But Gibbs didn't want to push that until Tim was a little more recovered. He'd learned his lesson. They had time, even if it wasn't very _much_ time.

"What about Philip Orlen?" he asked.

"What about him?" Ziva asked. "He has not shown up as missing. I have not seen any reports of unidentified murder victims in the last few days and I have been checking. They have hidden him."

Gibbs nodded. Maybe it was time to call in a favor or two.

"Keep looking. Give Tim a little more time."

He walked away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The U.S.S. _Barry_ was closed to the public at the moment. Renovations. That was perfect because government-run renovations didn't tend to get finished very efficiently. He'd crossed the Anacostia during the night and climbed aboard, setting up shop on top where the public wasn't allowed to go in any case. He was concealed from view except for during the brief moments when he peeked out of his cover to see who was coming in or going out of NCIS headquarters. He'd traced them here. It wasn't very difficult to do. They were creatures of habit who crept back to their lair when danger manifested itself.

Prey often was.

He knew what to expect. Eventually, they'd have to come out. He was set up to wait. He hadn't had this kind of thrill in a long time. The only way it could possibly be better would be if he could do some tracking in a wild setting. That would be the perfect thrill, but this would be pretty good.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim slept for hours without waking. It was good for him, even if it was frustrating for everyone who had to wait. The McGees stayed with Tim, although the evidence garage was rather depressing. Wild horses couldn't have dragged them away.

Gibbs found them there when he went down to see how Tim was doing. When he got there, he saw Sarah and Joan dozing beside Tim while Loren was pacing around. Gibbs could well imagine that this was a man not used to sitting idly by while there was danger to anyone he cared about. Besides that, if the tension between Loren and Sarah was as deep-seated as Loren had indicated, he might also want to reduce that tension by keeping at a distance when possible.

"Agent Gibbs?" Joan asked, her voice low. "Is there something you need?"

"Just checking on Tim."

"He's still sleeping. Ducky said that we shouldn't be surprised by it. He's had a strain."

As if he'd heard them speaking, Tim started to stir. Joan reached out to keep him still. He mumbled unintelligibly for a moment and then his heavy lids revealed two green slits.

"Oh," he said as he got a look at where he was.

"How are you feeling, Tim?" Joan asked.

"Tired," he mumbled.

"You can keep sleeping."

Tim shook his head and tried to wake himself up.

"No. I...I have work to do..."

"It can wait."

"No. It's waited too long already, hasn't it?"

"Tim, you got shot. It's okay."

"No...No, it's not." Tim started trying to sit up. He winced as he strained his injured shoulder.

Loren appeared almost out of nowhere. Sarah got up and walked away at the same time. Gibbs saw the expression on her face, but she didn't say a word...although it was clear that she was biting her tongue.

"Tim, you need to be careful," Loren said.

To Gibbs' surprise, Tim smiled weakly. "It's a little late for that, Dad."

Loren smiled, too. "You don't need to make up for it in one day, you know."

Tim looked beyond him and saw Gibbs standing there.

"Agent Gibbs. You're still here?"

"As long as you are, Tim," Gibbs said calmly.

"Then...it's even more important to get started, isn't it. You guys are putting your lives on hold for me, and I don't like that."

"It's all right," Gibbs said. "This is our job."

Tim shook his head. "No, it's not. Your job is to investigate crimes in the Navy. This has nothing to do with it. You're only involved because of what happened to Dr. Mallard and because I showed up at his house when I was going nuts."

"Our job is to protect. That includes you."

"I'll bet it's not in your job description to take care of random DARPA employees and their families."

"Doesn't matter."

"It should."

"No, it shouldn't. What matters is setting things right."

Tim was quiet for a few seconds and then he looked up.

"You're right...and it's time for me to do that, too." He swallowed hard and then looked at Loren. "I just...I need you to be there when I'm doing this, though, Dad."

"Why?"

"Moral support?" Tim said with another weak smile.

"Tim. You know that I'm in no danger."

"Logically, I do...but I don't care. I just want you to be there and then I'll be able to _see_ that you're not in danger. I won't forget. Please?"

"Of course." Loren looked at Gibbs. "Where will this be done, Agent Gibbs?"

"We'll put you in Abby's lab. We could set something up here, but it would take time and we can protect you in there, too."

"Okay."

Gibbs was surprised at how almost-_docile_ Tim seemed right now. He was agreeing with everything being said, even though it was clear that he hated the idea of what he was being told to do.

...and that thought reminded him of what Tim had been doing half his life already: doing what he was told no matter what he thought about it, personally. No choices to make. Just obedience to the ones who held all the cards.

Tim was still trying to get into a sitting position. Gibbs walked over to him and sat on the cot, drawing Tim's attention.

"What is it, Agent Gibbs?"

"Do you believe me, Tim?"

"About what?"

"That this is necessary, that it's the right thing to do. Do you believe that or are you doing it because you don't think you have any other choice?"

"Do I?"

"Of course. If you really don't think this will help, then, what's the point? We're trying to _help_ you," Gibbs said. "We're not trying to do what those people in DARPA have been doing to you for the last however many years of your life."

"You're not like them," Tim said.

"But do you believe me?"

"I...don't want to, but I know you're right."

"Are you sure?" Gibbs asked, still seeing the uncertainty in Tim's eyes.

"Yes," Tim said, but he wouldn't look Gibbs in the eye. He was choosing to stare in another direction.

"To help me or to help yourself?" Loren asked suddenly.

Tim looked at him and didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"Tim, it can't be all about me. You know that they've been using me to control you. I don't want you to..."

"...to throw myself under the bus?" Tim asked, interrupting. "To hold myself back as punishment? To accept every bad thing that gets thrown at me as just deserts for things that I didn't do right, things that I should have done or said?"

Loren didn't reply directly, and it was in that moment that Gibbs saw how much alike these two men really were. It wasn't just a physical resemblance, although that was there, too. They had both been punishing themselves. They weren't fighting something they felt they deserved. And the sad thing was that it was the same thing, just from different sides.

"It's the right thing to do, Dad...no matter _why_ I'm doing it...and I want you to be there so that I don't fall into that...that fear again."

"All right. I'll be there."

"Then...can I start now, Agent Gibbs?" Tim asked.

"Are you sure you want to?"

"No, but I'd rather get it over with...as much as I can."

"Are you able?"

Tim moved his shoulder a little bit and winced.

"I can do it."

Gibbs heard the determination, and if he could, he wanted to encourage that, not suppress it.

"All right. Give us a few minutes to get it set up."

"Okay."

Gibbs looked over toward where Sarah was standing.

"Sarah, would you come and help for a minute?"

She wanted to say no. Gibbs could see it. She wanted to stay and watch over her brother, but he had also seen how much she resented the fact that Tim wanted his dad with him when he hacked DARPA. He didn't want to see this go on, even if Loren was determined not to do anything about it. Tim's freedom wouldn't change anything unless Sarah was willing to forgive _before_ he was freed, and Gibbs hated to see families torn apart unnecessarily.

"Yeah, sure."

She followed him to the elevator as Tim's parents helped him get into a sitting position that wouldn't cause him much pain. As soon as the elevator began moving, Gibbs introduced another member of the McGee family to his office.

As the lights went down and the elevator stopped, Sarah started looking around.

"What's going on?"

"We need to talk for a few minutes."

"About what, Agent Gibbs? And why here?"

"It's private here, and because you need to stop thinking about yourself when it comes to dealing with what's happened to your brother."

For all her small build, Sarah had nerve.

"I don't see that it's any of your business what I do, but I'm not thinking about myself. I'm thinking about Tim."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Your dad?"

"That's _really_ none of your business. It's a family thing and nothing to do with all this."

"It has _everything_ to do with this. You're still mad at your dad and you're hurting your brother."

"What?" Sarah asked, outraged. "No, I'm not! I didn't do anything! _I_ didn't stand by and let Tim get taken away when he was a teenager to work for these monsters! _I_ didn't let Tim fall on his sword for the family name! _I_ didn't accept that Tim had to do these things for the greater good! _I_ tried to find a way to get him out! I didn't let that be it."

"Even when Tim asked you to let it lie?"

"Tim doesn't want to make waves. He's always been like that. He thinks that he needs to keep his head down and not stand up for himself. He always takes it and never fights back! I told him to! Over and over again, and he'd never listen to me! He always insisted that he was protecting us...protecting _Dad_. As if Dad was the one who was the most important."

"Do you hate your father that much?"

"It's none of your business!"

"After what happened to Tim, do you really think that your father is in no danger?"

"Tim's faced a lot more than _Dad_ ever had to, and Dad just let him do it!"

"And you think your father hasn't regretted that for the last thirteen years? Do you really think that your father doesn't care what your brother has gone through? Do you think he's that unfeeling?"

Sarah said nothing.

"You'd rather see your dad getting shot, then? All right. I just wanted to know." He leaned over to start the elevator moving again.

"I didn't say that!"

Gibbs straightened.

"Then, what _are_ you saying, Sarah? All I'm getting from you is that you hate your dad and you love your brother. That's fine. Lots of people feel that way, but I'd ask you to keep it to yourself since Tim has a lot more to worry about than his resentful younger sister."

"I didn't say that I hated my dad."

"You didn't?"

"No, I didn't. I'm mad at him because he doesn't care what Tim has gone through just for _him_."

"You think he doesn't care?"

"He hasn't got Tim out, has he?"

"How do you think he should do that?"

"He's an _admiral_!"

"Which means he has to obey orders just like anyone else...even more so."

"Because he's too much of a coward to make waves! Just like Tim won't make waves."

"What waves are _you_ making?" Gibbs asked. "A blog? How many people read that? Has it changed anything?"

Sarah flushed. "I'm not an admiral, and it's not me that's working for DARPA."

"Exactly."

"Exactly?"

"You're not the one who's in it, and you're not the admiral. What gives you the right to dictate what they do and whether they're doing the right thing? What do you know about it? ...besides that you're scared and mad and want to blame someone because you're powerless to do anything yourself."

"He's my brother," Sarah said, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"And you want him to be safe."

"Yes!"

"Then, give him time."

"Time for what?"

"To realize that he _can_ be safe. He's too busy worrying about everyone else and every time you rant you force him to worry about _you_ instead of what's coming. Is that what you want?"

Yes, it was what she wanted, but she wasn't going to admit that. Gibbs knew that Sarah was worried about Tim, but she also wanted Tim to be caring about her. She wanted to be the focus of concern to some degree, in part because that would mean that Tim's problems would be solved.

"I want Dad to make it better," she said softly and the tears fell down her cheeks. "Because he hasn't."

"He's doing his best now, but it's not up to him. It's up to Tim."

"Dads are supposed to make things better. They're supposed to be able to stop stuff like this from happening."

Gibbs smiled. That was a child's perspective.

"Sometimes dads can't do that, but they want to."

"I know."

"Then, let Tim lean on his dad...because that's all your dad can do right now. He can't make it better."

"I don't want my dad dead, Agent Gibbs," Sarah said.

"Good."

Gibbs turned on the elevator and sent it up to Abby's lab.

"What is it, Gibbs?"

"Tim is going to come in here to work."

"Work?" Abby asked quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"He's going to hack into DARPA."

Abby's eyes became wide.

"Wow. Okay. When did this happen?"

"When he woke up. Sarah's going to help you set up."

"Um...fine! My office okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay! Is he...all right?"

Gibbs smiled.

"A soft chair...and music."

Abby laughed.

"Yes, el Jefe!"

Gibbs left Sarah with Abby, and headed off to make one more call. He got on the elevator and turned it off.

"Hey, Fornell."

"_Gibbs. My ears were burning. I should have known it was you."_

"I need your help."

"_For what?"_

"Can't talk about it on the phone."

"_I do have a regular job, Gibbs."_

"This might have something to do with your regular job."

"_Might?"_

"Yes. Might."

"_Can you give me one word that will clue me in on why this is so important?"_

"DARPA."

"_Oh...great. You never get into simple things, do you. Why can't you just work on your boats for a hobby instead of espionage?"_

Gibbs smiled and hung up. Fornell would be there and that was all he needed.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"Don't you think this is all a little bizarre?" Sarah asked.

"What this?" Abby asked absently. She was focused on making sure the computer was as good as possible, as fast as possible. If Tim was going to be hacking DARPA, he was going to have the best tools available.

"You don't think that everything that's happened to Tim is crazy?"

"I think it's terrible, but not crazy."

"Why not?" Sarah asked. "It's like a bad spy movie, isn't it?"

Abby looked at Sarah sympathetically. "It'd be easier if it was, but it's not. It's real...which is why I'm going to make sure that this computer is the best one we've got so that your brother can do his best work and get everything set up like it needs to be."

"Abby...can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why are you all doing this?"

Abby stopped her work.

"It's our job."

"No...what you're doing is way beyond a job. Agent Gibbs is trying to solve family problems that have been around most of my life. Dr. Mallard could have put his life on the line to help Tim even after Tim said no. You're all here working to protect my brother from people he would have gone back to in a second. He always does. Tim never walks away. Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do...and we do the right thing...even if sometimes we go about it in a shady way."

"Like now? Hacking is illegal, and Tim _hates_ that."

"But it's the only way we'll be able to give him some protection. Now, no one in this building thinks that I can think like this, but here we go. What's happened...Sarah, none of this will ever get out unless it absolutely has to. If it's not going to save more lives by being public, no one will know except us. That's not really a bad thing, but that means that there's no trial, no official investigation, no typical punishments. That means that in order for us to win, we have to do things...secretly. And we're going to win and we'll do what we have to so that we win because we don't like to lose. ...especially when someone's life is on the line, and Tim came around and showed us how miserable he was. I don't like people being sad, and I don't like it when people are being taken advantage of because they don't have anyone to fight for them. Tim made himself alone and then when he started to _not_ be alone...he was alone again. That's awful and not fair. I don't like things being not fair. So I'm going to finish setting up this computer, and I need you to pick up that hard drive and bring it into my office so that I can try to get all this stuff working right. Okay?"

Sarah's eyes were wide.

"Did you even take a breath during all that?" she asked.

Abby grinned. "Of course. I just keep talking while I breathe. It's a talent I have."

"Wow."

"Come on. I can talk while I work, too. Let's get this ready."

They headed into Abby's office and Sarah watched while Abby hooked up the computer.

...and talked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was trying to get up, but he couldn't do it on his own.

"Tim, there _is_ time," Loren said.

Tim shook his head.

"No. If we keep waiting, I'm going to lose my nerve. I need to do it now while I think I won't freak out. Help me up, Dad."

Loren nodded, knowing that Tim needed to do this and if he thought he needed to do it now, then, he needed to do it now. He leaned down and helped Tim get up. Gibbs silently led the way. Tim wasn't in the best condition, but he was almost on his own two feet. They walked to the elevator, rode up to Abby's lab and then, walked in. Tim looked around with some interest. There was a lot to see, but he didn't get much chance. Abby was there, almost instantly.

"Tim, you're so pale! You _look_ like Elf Lord!"

Tim laughed a little.

"Not exactly the comparison I would hope for," he said. "A scrawny, wimpy elf.

Abby hugged him around the waist. Loren was surprised at how effusive she was, but then, he thought he'd been warned at some point...and the Elf Lord reference was over his head.

"Where are we headed?" he asked.

Abby let Tim go and gestured.

"Back here in my office. Tim can sit at a desk and it's more protected."

They walked back and Tim sank gratefully onto the comfortable office chair. He looked at the computer setup.

"Will this work for you, Tim?"

"It looks...fine." He looked at Gibbs and took a deep breath. "What exactly do you want me to do, Agent Gibbs? I don't want to...go...further than I have to."

Loren could see Tim starting to tense up as the moment came closer to reality.

Gibbs pulled up a chair and sat down beside Tim. Loren moved behind, giving Tim the benefit of his presence without feeling like he was in the way. He looked over and saw Sarah staring. She caught his look and looked away. It was unfortunate, but Loren couldn't see what could be done to fix that. He just had to hope that Tim would get out of this and maybe Sarah could forgive him, then.

"I need you to find the people who are involved in this project. I need you to see how far up the chain this goes. ...and how close they are to completion because we need to stop them before these weapons get out."

Tim took another deep breath and nodded. He looked at the computer, reached out to type and started shaking. He pulled back. Gibbs looked at Loren and stood up, vacating the chair beside Tim. Loren sat down.

"Tim, it's time to fight back, and this time...you're not fighting alone. I'm not standing aside and letting them take you away. I'm not sitting it out. You have to do the work because none of us can do it in your place, but we're here and we're not going away. Don't let your fear take control again."

Tim nodded. He reached out again and started to type. He stopped once and closed his eyes.

"Can you do it, Tim?" Loren asked softly. It wasn't really in his nature to be encouraging like this. It was easier to order, but Tim needed encouragement, not orders.

"I don't want to," he said equally softly. "I can, but I don't want to do it again."

"It'll work out better this time...like it should have before. Do it, Tim. Do it for yourself, not for me. Not for anyone else right now. Just you...for what you should have been able to do with your life. Don't give them any more power."

Tim looked at Loren and then around the room. He seemed a little embarrassed by how he was acting. He took a deep breath and started to work. It was the first time Loren had ever had a chance to watch his son at work, and he was amazed. He couldn't even keep up with what Tim was doing, and this with one injured arm.

Tim seemed to have disconnected from the world as he worked, and there was no pause. Windows popped up and then disappeared. Boxes filled with coding. Tim knew what he was doing, no question. For the millionth time, Loren wished that he had let Tim be what he could have been. There was so much potential that had been squandered. ...that _he_ had squandered.

"Wow," Abby said. "He's really good. I mean, I'm pretty good, but this is different. I wish I could have worked with him. It would have been fun."

"Are you following this?" Gibbs asked.

"Almost."

"Is he doing what I asked?"

"I think so. He's deep inside DARPA now. Nothing I've ever seen before."

"Will they know he's there?"

"I don't know. They'd know if _I_ got in there, but this is his place. He knows this place, Gibbs. That makes a difference. He knows the strengths and weaknesses. If there's a secret way in there, he knows it. Just wait."

Suddenly, Tim seemed to speed up even more, and a series of three photographs came up on the monitor. He pulled back and looked at Gibbs.

"That one in the middle...he's the one in charge. He's the one who did all the talking. He's the one who told me that...that it was my fault Mr. Orlen got killed. I don't know his name, but it's here. The other two...they were there."

Gibbs moved in to ask the questions that needed to be asked. Loren started to slide back, but Tim grabbed his arm and shook his head.

"Don't go, Dad," he said quietly.

"All right, Tim."

"Do you have more than just their pictures?"

Tim let go of Loren's arm and typed some more. Then, the printer came to life and pages of information came out.

"That's who they are. I don't want to know," Tim said. Then, more pages printed. "That's how far their circle goes. That's where they're conducting these last trials."

"Last?" Gibbs asked.

Tim nodded. "They're almost done. They're just trying to finish."

"How long?"

More pages from the printer.

"Depends on the results. They have to be careful."

"Do you know who would be after you?"

Tim looked at Gibbs.

"You didn't ask for that."

"I am now."

Tim turned back to the computer and brought up the three pictures again. He pointed to the one on the right.

"He's the one who killed Mr. Orlen. I never saw any of the others with guns, just him."

The door to the office open and Tim jumped a little. Tony leaned in.

"Hey, Boss, I know you wanted me to keep Fornell busy, but he's getting a little irritated. ...well, he _always_ seems a little irritated when he's here, but I don't know if he'll wait much longer."

Loren looked at his watch and was surprised to realize that Tim had got all this information in under an hour.

Gibbs nodded.

"Bring him down. We have things to show him."

"Right. What about the rest of us?"

"Might as well."

"Back in a jiffy, Boss."

Gibbs turned back to Tim.

"Tim, do they know you're in there?"

"Not this time. I don't want them to this time," Tim said softly, but he was clearly terrified of that happening again.

"Are you still in there?"

Tim nodded, and Loren was impressed with how patient Gibbs was being. Tim wasn't making it easy, even if he was doing what was asked of him.

"Is that everything?"

"Yeah...I guess," Tim said.

"This is the right thing, McGee," Gibbs said.

"So you say." Tim looked at Loren with fear in his eyes. "They'll know. They'll find out."

"Eventually, but you're safe right now."

"Can't stay in here forever."

"We won't have to," Loren said. "We won't, Tim. We'll figure this out."

The door to the office opened again and Tim flinched away again. This time, he pulled his stitches and he winced at the pain. A man Loren didn't know came in, followed by Tony and Ziva. He stood up and stepped in front of Tim, blocking him from view.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The man's eyes widened in a bit of surprised but he didn't seem the least bit intimidated.

"FBI Agent Tobias Fornell. Who are _you_?"

"Rear Admiral Loren McGee." He looked at Gibbs. "What is he doing here?"

"_He_ was summoned here by one Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Fornell said.

Loren focused on Gibbs. He was the one who was in charge here and he was the one he already knew.

"You didn't say anything about bringing another person into this."

"The more who know, the better," Gibbs said. "I trust him."

Loren looked at Fornell.

"Why you?" he asked.

"Because I'm probably the only person who would be willing to drop everything and help him...against my better judgment. I don't even _know_ what I'm doing here."

"You're helping my son get free of the people who have controlled him for the last thirteen years."

"Your son?"

Loren stepped aside. Tim was sitting, motionless, on the chair. His eyes were the only part of him that was moving...and they were shifting all around the room.

"So...I take it this isn't a jail break, then."

"Not in the typical sense."

Fornell looked at Gibbs.

"Would you like to explain all this, Gibbs? I don't have unlimited time. You said this had something to do with DARPA."

Gibbs picked up the pictures and showed them.

"This man is trying to kill Tim McGee. _This_ man has been using McGee to help him develop bioweapons over the last thirteen years."

"Fifteen," Tim said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"They started before I got there."

"Okay. Fifteen years, then."

"I'm assuming you have some kind of actual proof of all this?" Fornell asked. "It's kind of hard to swallow."

Gibbs picked up the pile of paper Tim had printed off, searched through it and then handed one page over.

"This came from DARPA. Tim hacked into it and got this information for us."

"Hacking is illegal, Gibbs," Fornell said without looking up. "Not that I think you really care about that."

"We can't go at this in the usual way, anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because of who these people are. They've already shot at Tim once. They operate in complete secrecy and are using DARPA resources to get this done."

"Proof?" Fornell asked again.

Gibbs searched through the pile and handed another page over. Fornell took it and looked.

"Okay. What do you think _I_ can do about it?"

"Help us."

"How? You have to be more specific than that."

"You know people higher up. I can't involve Jenny in this unless it's necessary."

"Oh, so you don't care about ruining _my_ career? You just want to protect hers?"

"No."

Loren got the feeling that these two did this kind of dance all the time and that it needed to play out until the end. So he waited patiently while they poked and prodded at each other.

"I don't know how far up this goes yet, but they depend on secrecy, and if they can take out Tim, they remove our only eyewitness to a murder."

"Murder?"

"Phillip Orlen. DoD flunky and Tim's handler. They killed him. We've got the evidence of it, but Tim was right there."

Tim swallowed audibly at the reminder. Loren turned back to his son and sat down.

"Tim, how are you feeling?"

"Little...dizzy. I think the painkillers are wearing off."

Loren looked back.

"Agent Gibbs, can my son take a break?"

"One question, first," Fornell interjected.

Loren stood again, but this time, he stayed right beside Tim. He was determined to keep himself involved in this as much as possible. He wasn't abandoning Tim to his fate this time.

Tim looked at Fornell. He'd stayed almost silent through this.

"Why you?" Fornell asked. "Thirteen years is a long time and you don't look very old. Why keep you for thirteen years and then try to kill you?"

"I hacked into DARPA when I was seventeen and saw what they were doing. I showed I had skills and they had to cover up what I saw. They decided to kill me when I lost my head and ran away from them. These guys kept me from running back. I would have."

"Why?"

"To save my family, my father. They threatened them. They'll kill him if it means keeping me in control."

"And they're done with that now?"

"I guess so. That's what Agent Gibbs said."

Tim's voice was very soft. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and hide from all the eyes on him. Attention wasn't a good thing in his mind.

"Okay. That's all the questions I have for now. I'll have more later, but you can do what you want as far as I'm concerned."

Loren helped Tim stand again.

"We'll go back down to that garage. Is that all right?"

Gibbs nodded and gestured to Abby.

"I'll help you down," she said.

Sarah trailed along after, but she'd said nothing. Loren wasn't surprised by that.

When they got back to Tim's little corner, he nearly collapsed onto his cot.

"Did I do enough, Dad?"

"For now. It's plenty, Tim."

"Good. Don't go, okay?"

"I won't. If you want me here, I'll stay."

He might have heard a suppressed sigh of irritation, but he ignored it. Joan came and sat down beside Tim as well.

It was quiet in the room. Tim fell asleep quickly.

"How did he do?" Joan asked softly.

"I never knew how skilled he was. I wish I hadn't forced him into this."

"There's time," she said. "Finally, there will be time."

"But a lot has been lost."

"Yes, but it's not the end. It won't be the end. We won't let it."

Loren smiled a little, although he'd rarely felt the desire to smile less.

"It'll be the end of something. Tim won't be a captive anymore. He'll be free."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It might be taking longer than he wanted, but that just made the anticipation more. He'd be ready when the time came. He'd checked the distance and the angle. He had a clear shot of the sidewalk and the front door. Every time a person had gone into the building, he'd taken aim to see how good he could get.

It was pretty good.

There was always a possibility that they'd use a different door and somehow get him into a car too quickly, but he could always try again later.

The hunt was almost as good as the takedown.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Fornell had taken over Tim's vacated chair. He was sitting with an air of unconcern, reading through all the pages of material Tim had printed off from DARPA. He even started swiveling the chair back and forth as he read.

"Have you read all this, Gibbs?" he asked, after about twenty minutes.

"Nope."

"Good. If you had said you had, I'd know you're lying. Most of this stuff is way over _my_ head and I'm smarter than you."

"And?"

"And what I _do_ understand...you guys have got yourselves into deep water here. Even if it's only these three guys and whoever works under them, they've been doing this for years. They're very good at hiding from official scrutiny."

"You have any connections at DARPA?"

Fornell raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe. Why?"

"High connections?"

"Why?"

"Could you get them over here?"

"Have you thought about how this could affect your little hacker?" Fornell asked.

"In what respect?"

"I don't know if it's ever been told to you, Gibbs, but building bioweapons happens to be illegal...against _international_ law," Fornell said in an exaggerated tone. "This guy has, by his own admission, been helping them with it for more than a decade! Depending on these people's intentions, he could be accused of terrorism."

"Hey! It was against his will," Tony protested. "They were threatening his family!"

"Things are tough all over, DiNozzo. I'm sympathetic, really, I am, but what you're really doing is giving DARPA a convenient scapegoat while they quietly make these things go away. If anything becomes public... it's Tim McGee who will pay the price. Everyone else involved will already have been shuffled out of the way."

"What do _you_ suggest we do, then?" Tony demanded. "We can't just leave things like this! There's someone gunning for him!"

"Well, the kid is going to have to get a better grip on himself than he has now. He's unstable and that will only make things harder."

"He got shot and he's on painkillers," Tony said. "How coherent would _you_ be?"

"What's your idea, Fornell?" Gibbs asked.

"Who says I have one? This is _your_ thing, isn't it?"

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. I do have an idea, but I need to talk to this guy before I take any steps."

"He's pretty worn out."

"Fine. Let him rest, but if I'm going to stick my neck out, I'm going to be as prepared as possible. So, let me know when he's ready to talk to me. I get that you want to help him. I'm fine with that, but I'm not willing to take as much of a risk as this would require without knowing what I'm getting into completely...and this stuff?" He held up the sheaf of paper. "It's not going to solve anything. What it tells me is that you've got a mess on your hands. Before I start cleaning it up, I'm going to be ready for how deep the muck might be because I'm not willing to drown in it."

Fornell dropped the paper on the desk and got to his feet.

"I'll do some discrete questioning. Call me when your guy wakes up. I'm not taking a real step until I get some time talking to him, preferably _without_ his dad hovering like a mother hen. If this kid really hacked DARPA and really has been working under threat for half his life, I expect him to act like an adult, and he shouldn't need Daddy to be his protector."

Fornell left the lab. After he was gone, Tony grimaced.

"What are we going to do about this, Boss?" he asked. "I think Fornell means it, but I don't want to depend just on him...especially if he's right about how DARPA would react. We can't let that happen to McGee, not when he's the innocent one in all this."

"He has done what we asked," Ziva said. "If we then let him be punished again for these things, I think he will not survive it...and his family would not accept it."

"I'm not telling Admiral McGee that his son might take all the blame. No way," Tony said.

"We don't know what's going to happen yet anyway," Abby said. "But it'll work out, and Tim can come and work with us when he's free!"

"I don't think it'll be that simple, Abbs," Tony said.

"Maybe not, but I don't think we should assume we're going to fail!"

"We will not assume, but we do need to acknowledge the possibility, Abby," Ziva said.

Gibbs looked at them and then he had an idea.

"I think we need to find Philip Orlen's body."

"How are we going to do that?" Tony asked. "All we know is that he was shot. They won't leave his body out for discovery unless they want it to be found."

"But if we had it," Ziva began, "murder is not something the DARPA people could simply ignore. It would not be worth it to go after McGee for the hacking he has done _and_ these people for murder. Keeping the number involved limited would be better for them."

"Again, _how_?"

"They had to get him out of the building somehow," Abby said, "and a head shot is messy. If it got spatter on Tim, then, they'd have to be _really_ careful not to lose some blood on the way out, even just a drop."

"But we don't have a warrant to go snooping around, and if they see us..."

"I think we might be able to get someone off their radar," Gibbs said.

"Who? Who in the world can we trust with what's going on who's also going to be savvy enough to catch something like that?"

Gibbs smiled. "A friend of yours, DiNozzo."

"A friend of mine?" Tony asked, his brow furrowing. "Who do you–? No. No, Boss. No _way_."

"What? I'm not following," Abby admitted.

"Only the guy who thought I was guilty of murder!" Tony said. "Jerk."

"Agent Sacks?" Ziva asked. "Why him?"

"Because they won't be watching for him," Gibbs said. "And he knows how to investigate. Not his fault you were being framed."

"Still said I was a murderer," Tony grumbled.

"The evidence _did_ say that you were," Abby pointed out.

"I wasn't!"

"We all know that, and so does he," Ziva said.

Tony looked unhappy by the situation, but he didn't say anything else...out loud.

"Good. I'll call him."

Gibbs smiled a little as he walked out of the lab. He was pretty sure that Sacks would be surprised to hear from him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Loren was sitting beside Tim, watching his son sleep. Joan had walked over to talk to Sarah, but if Tim needed to have him close, he would stay close. It was like he was seeing him as he'd never seen him before. Oh, he'd regretted what had made all this possible, but he'd never seen just how much he'd squandered his son's intelligence because of his insistence on following the family tradition. Watching Tim fly through all those codes without pausing, even while partially on painkillers and suffering from a gunshot wound, had shown him the true magnitude of his mistake, how much Tim had paid the price for it.

He didn't blame Sarah for hating him.

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up and smiled a little at Joan.

"He's still sleeping," Loren said.

"I know. I was watching you...and I hadn't ever realized just how much you two are alike."

Loren looked at Tim again.

"I don't see it, Joan."

"It's not just looks, but I think he got your good looks, too. You are so much alike...and once he gets out of this, you'll have years to see the similarities."

"I already squandered years," Loren said softly. "Our son is here because of me."

"No, Loren, don't go there."

"Joan...the way he worked up there. _I_ am the one who refused to let him be who he should have been. You never would have kept him from that if I hadn't insisted that he _had_ to be in the Navy. I can still see his face when he told us about going to MIT, how excited he was. I ignored that. And I can see his face when he told me that he hacked DARPA just to get _away_ from the Navy. What father would let his son take the fall for something like this? We could have fought it. _I_ could have fought it. I _should_ have. Maybe I didn't have the clout for it back then, but I could have made a difference. I didn't even try."

Joan grabbed Loren's arms. "Loren, your son loves you. His forgiveness helped me find mine. Don't push away what he gave you years ago. Tim doesn't blame you for this. Tim doesn't think you deserve punishment."

"Tim is the victim of years of psychological torture, Joan. Even if we get him out of this, that doesn't go away. I can't take away those years. I can't take away the fear that he had, that he still _has_. I can't fix any of this. All I can see is that I put my son in the path of these people, and the damage they inflicted on him... I don't know if it's worse than what his own father did."

"Loren."

"No, Joan. I accept that Tim doesn't blame me for this anymore, but he should. I _am_ to blame." Loren looked at Tim once more. "The problem is that there is no way to give him restitution for that. There's nothing I can do to fix what I almost destroyed."

For the first time, possibly since he'd been a child, Loren felt tears in his eyes. His father hadn't been accepting of that kind of emotional expression. Real men didn't cry, and Loren had learned that lesson. He leaned forward and stared at the floor, absurdly embarrassed by his tears, trying to hide them from view.

"God forgive me, I put my own son in the hands of monsters."

Loren blinked quickly, blinking away the tears before they could fall, before they could be seen.

There was a long moment of silence. Then...

"And that, Loren, is why you and Tim are _so_ much alike," Joan said softly but with the tears that Loren wouldn't allow for himself.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You always want to blame yourselves rather than the people who actually deserve it. _You_ didn't do this to your son. _You_ didn't hurt him. _You_ didn't want him dead. It's these people, these people who are not only hurting him but also could potentially hurt or kill hundreds, even thousands of others. _They_ are the monsters and _they_ deserve the blame. Not you for not knowing what they were really doing. Not Tim for failing to stop Erin from being murdered. There are things that happen to good people, and they happen whether they're wanted or not. These things that have happened to us, to Tim... none of us wanted that. What you wanted for Tim was what you had yourself, and yes, you were blind to what _he_ wanted, but _you_ had no desire for your son to suffer. If you had known what they were going to do, you would _never_ have stood by. Never."

Loren had to blink away more tears before he looked at Tim, lying there so quietly. His face was pale. He looked thin and pinched...defeated, even in sleep. Joan put her arms around him and hugged him tightly from behind. He touched her hands.

"This is not what I wanted for my son."

"I know. So does he."

"I don't know if he really does."

"He does."

Loren looked at his son.

"I would stand between him and anyone. Now, I would do that. I don't know if I would have thirteen years ago."

"You would have. Maybe _you _don't know it, but I do."

"For now...all I can do is sit here."

"That's what he needs, Loren. You don't always have to come riding in on a white horse to save the day."

"I think mine threw a shoe."

Joan laughed softly.

"Sit by your son and help him remember what's real."

Loren sighed and nodded, wishing he could do more.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell sat at his desk, thinking about how he was going to proceed. He was genuinely concerned about the man that Gibbs had decided to help. He just didn't know what DARPA would do to keep all this under wraps. The federal agencies were very careful about letting that kind of thing out into the public eye. Even when they were doing things right, people hated them. To be missing something like this...for fifteen _years_, no less...

He sighed. While it wouldn't be fair or right, he could easily see Tim McGee becoming the scapegoat.

"Fornell."

Fornell looked up and saw Sacks looking a bit confused.

"What is it, Ron?"

"I just got a call from NCIS."

"You what?" he asked. "From Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

"Why? They already talked to me."

"They did? Well, then, why are they asking me to go snooping around DARPA's headquarters to see if I can find evidence of a body being moved?"

"Philip Orlen?"

"They didn't say. If you knew about all this, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know they were going to do that. They didn't say anything when I was there."

"You think I should do it? Agent Gibbs said that I needed to keep it quiet. I don't like the way they do things over there."

"They're good at their jobs, and...I hate to admit it, but they have a good reason to keep quiet this time."

"What reason?"

"They're operating under the radar to keep a man from being blamed for something he only did under duress."

"So...should I do what they want?"

"If you can do it without getting caught."

"I know I can do _that_," Sacks said confidently. "I just don't know if I _should_ help them."

"You're not helping them. You're helping an innocent man who has already been shot by people hiding in the secret corners of DARPA."

"And you?"

"I'm helping _them_," Fornell said with a grin.

Sacks rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say." Then, he walked away.

Fornell watched him go and wondered what had transpired since his departure. Why start another chaotic part of this already-twisted case?

Then, he got it.

"A murder that can't be blamed on Tim McGee," he said softly. "A murder means that they either have to widen their net or cast it somewhere else."

Oh, Gibbs was too clever by half. For all that he had no interest in the political side of things, he knew how political people operated.

"This just might work," he said to himself. So he started thinking about who might still be willing to acknowledge his existence in high places. He had to start somewhere. It was just a matter of how high he was willing to go.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

The next time Tim woke up, he felt more aware of the pain, but he also felt more...settled. Less afraid. He wasn't sure why that was the case, but it was a relief to have the lead weight in his stomach feel a little less heavy.

Then, he suddenly remembered what he'd done before he'd fallen asleep.

_I hacked DARPA again._

The lead balloon got heavier. He took a deep breath, felt the strain on his shoulder and let the air out loudly.

"Tim, are you awake?"

Tim opened his eyes. He looked around for a moment.

"Dad?"

"I'm right here, son."

Tim found his dad sitting right beside him. There was something different about him, and Tim couldn't figure out what it was.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

There was a weak smile.

"Tim, I'm not in any danger. You're the only one who was."

"No...are you okay?"

There was something in his father's expression.

"I'm fine, Tim. I'm just fine. How are you feeling?"

"I hacked DARPA again."

"With better results, this time," Loren said. "How's your shoulder?"

"It hurts."

"That's probably a good thing, but I'll get Dr. Mallard down here to see if you need some more painkillers."

Tim tried to sit up. He could see that Loren was not telling him something.

"Dad?"

Loren was by his side in a moment, easing him back down.

"Tim, don't worry about me. You have more than enough on your plate right now. Just relax as much as you can. I'm sure there will be questions people have for you, but right now, all you have to do is relax and let yourself start to heal. I'll go get Dr. Mallard."

Knowing that his dad was rarely so easygoing about things, Tim felt even more worried, but his father stood up and walked away.

"Sarah, come and sit with Tim while I find Dr. Mallard."

Then, he was gone. Sarah sat down.

"Are you feeling okay, Tim?" she asked.

"No," Tim admitted. "My shoulder really hurts, and I'm still close to freaking out even though I don't need to. Part of me wishes I had the strength to run out of here."

"Like you did at Agent Gibbs' place?"

"Yeah."

"_Why_? Tim, why would you want something so stupid?"

"I don't know. Dr. Mallard says it makes sense to him, but I spent my half my life wanting to be free of them...and it's bizarre to me that I'd want to go back." Tim tried to make himself comfortable, but it wasn't happening. "But I still do."

"For Dad?" Sarah asked.

"No. Not exactly," Tim said, ignoring her tone. "It got so that I felt safe when I did exactly what they wanted and if I stepped out of line, even a little, I was risking more than I should. I've stepped _way_ out of line, Sarah. I feel like it's worse than it was."

"Well, that's wrong."

"Actually, it could be right," Tim said smiling a little. "I just have too many people holding me back and I can't fight against everyone."

"That's because it's stupid, Tim."

"That's me," Tim said, with a wince as he shifted position again. "Mr. Stupid."

"We're trying to help you, Tim," Sarah said, sounding less irritated.

"I know. That's the only reason I'm not furious."

Sarah smiled sheepishly and then reached out her hand. Tim took it and squeezed her hand gently.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ron sat in his car, considering how he was going to approach this. The less attention he brought on himself, the better. He didn't need to get inside from what Gibbs had said. He just needed to find evidence outside, and if they were really moving a body around, they wouldn't be doing it out the front door. All he needed was to get into the back of the building and look around back there. Come to think of it, he knew someone who worked at DARPA. Not high up, but high enough for what he wanted.

Ron nodded to himself and called.

"_Joseph Maxwell. Who am I speaking to?"_

"Hey, Joe. It's Ron."

"_Ron! What's up?"_

"Hey, I'm working on a case and it's led me to your building."

"_Really? What case?"_

"A classified one," Ron said, drily.

"_Okay, okay. What do you need?"_

"I was hoping you could let me in to look around the back entrances."

"_Why ask me? You could just come over and flash your badge, couldn't you?"_

"Sure, but I'd rather go about things in the right way. No need to muscle my way in when I can ask nicely."

"_Yeah, figures. Well, sure. You on your way over now?"_

"Yeah. That a problem?"

"_Nope. I'll be out front in about twenty minutes, okay?"_

"That works for me."

Ron drove over to DARPA and saw Joe standing out on the front step. He parked and walked over.

"Thanks for doing this for me, Joe," he said.

"No problem. Gets me away from my desk for a few minutes. Where do you want to go?"

"Just around back, whatever entrances there are back there. I don't need to go inside. Just outside."

"All right...and you can't tell me anything?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"All right."

Joe led the way around the building. Ron hitched his backpack onto his back. He normally didn't do the actual evidence gathering. He was more on the interrogation side, but he knew how to do it, and for this Tim McGee's sake, he hoped he found something...although he didn't like the idea of DARPA being corrupt.

When they got to the back of the building, Ron started looking around the doors. As he searched for a sign of blood, he wondered what would come of this. He was torn between hoping for something to help save a man's life and hoping that the charge of corruption wouldn't be substantiated.

He didn't get a chance to decide which hope was stronger.

...because he found something.

"Ron, is that blood?" Joe asked, hovering, as Ron knelt down and took a photograph of a small dark splotch on the door frame.

It was dry after all this time, of course, but there was enough of it that it was hard to mistake the mark for anything else.

"Looks like it," he said, clinically. And why would there be blood out here? Unless...

He thoroughly photographed the area before taking a sample for testing.

"Do you...want to look inside?"

Ron considered. He didn't need to go through the hallways where anything would likely have been cleaned up by a janitor...and where the wrong people might see him. Still, this blood might have been dripped further onto the doorframe than he could currently see.

"Sure. Just the doorframe. I don't need to go further than that."

"Okay."

Joe was a little bothered as he got out his card and opened the door. Ron examined the splotch. It did go further. Not much, but a little bit. He could see where someone had tried to clean it up and just not done quite enough. He took more photos and then another sample. Fingerprints? Unlikely to be of any use.

Ron stood up and looked around. There were cameras, of course. They were taking note of what was happening back here, but there was no reason to expect that someone would be watching for him. Not even the best villain would be able to anticipate everything, and if they knew anything about NCIS, Ron Sacks would be the last person they'd expect to be helping out Gibbs' team.

..._which is probably why Agent Gibbs asked me in the first place._

No other signs of a body being taken here. It was possible that a camera might have caught something, but they would be smart enough to get rid of that.

"Okay, Joe. I'm done back here. Thanks."

"Ron...what do I do about this? I wasn't expecting to see blood."

Ron looked at him and smiled.

"Nothing. This is a case. It has nothing to do with you. We don't think that it's about DARPA. Some group passed through here, probably as quickly as they could. I wouldn't worry about it. I appreciate your help."

Joe was looking at him suspiciously, but Ron forced himself to stay calm. He didn't like lying about his work, and he didn't like lying to his friends. He was being as close to honest as he could. In truth, Joe could get in trouble if he dwelt on it too much.

"Just remember that this is classified. So don't start gossiping back at your desk. You DARPA guys can get too excited about anything that's not electronic."

Finally, Joe relaxed and rolled his eyes.

"Excited? Have you seen what I do all day?"

"No. I've heard about it, and that's enough for me."

Unobtrusively, Ron started steering Joe toward the front of the building as they continued to talk. Joe absently showed his badge to the security guard on duty and they reached the main entrance.

"I'll talk to you later, Joe."

"You owe me something for this."

"Tell Alice that I'll cook if she wants to trust me," Ron said with a grin.

"I'll do that. See you around."

Joe went back inside and Ron walked back to his car.

As he headed to NCIS, he thought about the blood he'd found. What would this mean? He hadn't found a blood trail by any means. Besides, it was much more likely that they had simply loaded the body into a car and driven away. That little drop of blood could be the only evidence they'd get. Would that be enough to get DARPA to look into it? He didn't know.

"Well, it's not my responsibility," he said aloud. "I just need to turn this over."

Yeah, right. Whether Gibbs expected him to just walked away or not, Ron knew that he couldn't. He couldn't just ignore what he'd been told and go back to his regular job. As long as Fornell was involved, so was he.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky looked up at the strangely-hesitant voice.

"Admiral McGee, what can I do for you?" he asked.

There was something very changed about Tim's father. He couldn't quite figure out what it was at first.

"Tim's awake and feeling some pain. I was hoping you could take a look at his shoulder."

"Of course. Just let me get my bag."

Ducky quickly grabbed his doctor's bag and walked beside the much taller admiral toward the elevator.

Then, it struck him. From the moment they'd met him, Admiral McGee had been an admiral. He carried himself as an admiral of the Navy. It seemed to be second nature to him. Even when not in uniform, it would be almost impossible to disguise his position. He had the bearing of an admiral...and may have had that bearing even if he'd decided to become a plumber.

...but not now. His shoulders were slightly slumped. It wasn't overly obvious, but something had hit him hard enough to shake his own self-perception.

They walked side by side and the slight slump didn't change. Ducky decided to test his thought.

"Admiral McGee, may I ask a strange question?"

Loren looked at him.

"Of course."

"Is your current stance intentional?"

Loren's shoulders squared up, almost instantly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Ducky smiled. "Never mind."

Unconscious, then. He was being affected by something, and logic dictated that it was due to Tim in some way, but nothing so far had changed his position, until now. Ducky was bursting to ask what was going through his mind, but he restrained himself. It was clear that Loren wanted the focus to be on his son, not himself.

"Dr. Mallard, will my son recover?"

"Unless I see a major shift in his injury, I would assume that he will recover relatively quickly."

"No, not his shoulder. His mind."

Ducky looked at the admiral, his brow slightly furrowed.

"His mind?"

"Yes. How long will it take for his mind to heal from what these monsters have done to him?"

Just for an instant, there was a tremor in his voice. Ducky would swear to it.

"That, I can't say for sure. Once we free him from their physical control, it will take time and probably formal therapy to get him freed from their mental control. Psychological damage is harder to heal than physical damage, especially when it's been inflicted over the course of many years."

A nod. Nothing more.

"There is a very good chance that he _will_ recover, though. Don't give up on him, Admiral."

A humorless smile crossed Loren's face, but nothing more.

The elevator ride was silent, and when they got off in the evidence garage, Ducky watched as Loren walked toward his son. The stride was quick and confident...on the surface. What turmoil was concealed in that tread?

Sarah and Tim were sitting together, holding hands as they approached.

"Timothy, how are you feeling?"

Sarah looked up and stepped away. Tim watched her go and then looked at his father. Complications all around, and Tim was definitely aware of them.

"Timothy?" Ducky asked again.

Tim looked at him.

"A bit clearer in my head, but my shoulder really hurts."

"Not surprising."

"Is there any way to keep the painkillers from making me feel so loopy?" Tim asked. "It's so hard to think when I have them."

"No, I'm afraid not, and at this stage of your recovery, pain relief is important. I would even dare say more important than thinking clearly."

"Why?"

"Because uncontrolled pain can lead to longer recovery times as well as issues with that recovery. It's better to control your pain now, but I will try to keep the dosage low enough that you can do whatever thinking is necessary."

"All right."

Tim sighed and leaned back.

"Allow me to check your wound and then you can get a little more rest."

"I'm laying around too much as it is."

"No. You're lying around just barely enough. I would refuse to let you stand up for a day or so if I could, but since I can't, this will have to do."

Ducky carefully removed the dressing from Tim's shoulder. He checked the wound thoroughly, and then, redressed it. Tim winced but didn't say anything in protest. Then, Ducky gave him another dose of painkillers. Tim took them with some reluctance, but he wasn't unhappy about easing his pain.

"Now, just relax as much as you can. Rest and recover. While your wound is as minor as a bullet wound to the shoulder could be, it is still quite a lot of trauma to your body and you need to give yourself time to heal."

As the analgesics began to take effect, Tim began to get drowsy again.

"I'd rather have my mind heal," he mumbled.

"That will come."

Tim's eyes started to slip closed.

"Dad?" he whispered.

Ducky saw an expression of pain cross Loren's face. It vanished quickly, but it was there, very clearly there.

However, when he spoke, his voice was the same as it ever was. Confident, sure, almost emotionless.

"I'm right here, Tim. I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Tim began to relax. After a few minutes more, he was asleep again. Ducky was pleased with Tim's progress, and the fact that he was talking about healing his mind as well as his shoulder boded well for the future.

Ducky shifted Tim's shoulder just slightly so that it would be less likely to cause him pain. Then, he stood up and saw that ever-so-slight slump to Loren's shoulders. Tim's pain caused him pain. Tim's need for healing was a source of guilt and shame to his father. It was as if the longer Loren spent with his son, the more horrified he was.

"Admiral?" he asked, concerned.

Loren was staring at his sleeping son. The look in his eyes was one of devastation.

And yet, his voice revealed almost nothing of that.

"I'll sit with him for now, Dr. Mallard. Thank you."

Like Tim himself, Loren McGee was much taller than Ducky, but he seemed to have shrunk in the face of what his son was suffering. As he sat down, Ducky put his hand on the admiral's shoulder.

"You are not to blame for the state of your son," he said softly.

Loren didn't look away.

"Not for all of it, but I'm to blame for enough of it. Too much...too much to ever make right."

Ducky was strongly reminded of Tim when he had spoken to him days before about Erin's death. Peas in a pod when it came to taking responsibility. Still, he could also see that nothing would change Loren's feelings at the moment. Instead, he withdrew and headed back up to Abby's lab, in the hopes of finding that there'd been some progress.

Perhaps Tim's physical freedom might help the rest of his family as well.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

There were people going in and out of the building, almost constantly. However, none were the McGees or the NCIS team. A lesser man would get impatient at the delay, but he knew that they'd have to leave eventually. There were limits to how long they could hide in there.

If he had to wait longer than he had originally planned, he could handle it. He imagined the torment his target was probably going through right now and it made him smile.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell considered who else he could call. He was striking out so far, but if Gibbs really thought he had high connections, he wasn't going to let himself fail there. There was someone he could try, but he'd been avoiding him simply because he didn't like the guy. Probably, no one really liked the guy, maybe not even his own mother. ...but if anyone would admit to knowing about these people, Trent Kort was probably the one.

He grimaced and dialed.

"_Hello, Fornell. This is a pleasant surprise."_

That oily voice. Fornell had often thought that he would like to see what would happen if he just hauled back and punched Kort right in the face. Would the smile vanish? Probably not. In fact, Kort would probably find some perverse pleasure in having goaded Fornell into that reaction.

"I'm sure it is."

"_What can I not do for you today?"_

"I'd like to ask you about a couple of names and have you tell me how stupid I am to be getting involved."

"_I'm intrigued. Involved in what?"_

"That's not part of the deal."

"_But I can tell you how stupid you are. I think I could handle that."_

"Good. First name. Philip Orlen."

There was a very brief pause.

"_DoD flunky? If you're getting involved with him, I'd say on a scale of one to ten, your stupidity is maybe a four at most. Depends on the situation, though. He's connected, but he's not important himself. Even you could take him."_

"Okay," Fornell said, keeping his voice neutral. He didn't want to give anything away to Kort. "Second name. Marc Tueller."

A much longer pause.

"_Marc Tueller."_

"Yes."

"_On a scale of one to ten? That could be at least a nine. Maybe a ten. You'd better have a good reason for picking on him and even if you do, you're pretty stupid. People don't get involved with him unless he wants them to. If they try anyway... well, they generally regret it. ...and you'd probably better be able to duck."_

"Duck?"

"_Trained as a sniper and word is that he loves the hunt more than he should."_

"Okay."

"_Any other names?"_

Fornell considered. If he gave another name, he was pretty sure that Kort would start to pull the threads together.

"No. No others."

"_Meaning that you don't want me to figure out whatever else is going on. While we're not exactly on the best of terms, I'll tell you this for free, Fornell: Watch your back if you're diving into that pool. It's full of sharks, and they'll smell blood if they realize you're in there. In fact, they'd attack you just on principle even if you weren't bleeding."_

"Understood."

Fornell was surprised at the warning. It _must_ be pretty dangerous if Kort was doing that.

"_I'm assuming that you'd prefer I didn't noise this around."_

"That might be preferable, yes."

"_For now, I can do that. For now, but my generosity has its limits."_

"I'd expect nothing less of you, Kort."

The connection was broken, abruptly. Fornell grimaced. It was as dangerous as he'd been afraid it was. If he was going to be of any help, he'd have to call in a large number of favors. Or just one that he'd been saving for a long time. He didn't want to use that one if he didn't have to, but this might be the day. Well, before he did that, he was going to talk to the person who'd be on the receiving end of his generosity. He'd been told a lot by others, but he wanted to get the true measure of Tim McGee himself.

Decision made, Fornell headed back to NCIS.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You actually found something?" Abby asked in surprise.

"Just because I work at the FBI doesn't make me incompetent, Ms. Sciuto," Sacks said. "I follow where the evidence leads, no matter _where_ that might be."

He looked at Tony who glared back at him.

"What did you find?" Gibbs asked.

"Blood," Sacks said. "On the doorframe in the back of the building. Not much, but some. Enough for testing."

He pulled out the samples and handed them to Abby who quickly signed for them and got them running to compare with the sample from Tim's clothes. He also pulled out the pictures.

"Here are the photographs I took, documenting where the blood sample was. I didn't see anything else. If it was a body they were moving, they must have had a car waiting. It looked like they were trying to clean it up and just missed some. How dangerous is this going to be?"

"Depends on how much they know about what we're doing," Gibbs said. "Why?"

"Because I got a friend to let me back there and I don't want them going after him because of it. There are plenty of security cameras back there and we'll both be on them if these guys decide to look."

"We're trying to keep what we're doing hidden until we're ready to spring the trap, Sacks," Gibbs said. "Can't guarantee that we'll succeed in that, though."

"Thanks, Sacks," Tony said grudgingly.

Sacks rolled his eyes and looked at Abby.

"How long will it take to get results?"

"As long as it takes," Abby said. "Since I'm just comparing the samples to make sure they're the same, it won't take as long as my original sample did."

"Original sample from where?"

"From Tim's clothes. He was standing close enough to the man who was killed to be spattered with blood and brain matter," Ziva said.

"You don't have to stay here. I'm sure you have other things to do," Tony said.

"Oh, I do," Sacks said, but he didn't move to leave.

"So...aren't you going to go do them?"

"I have time. ...and since I just did your dirty work for you, DiNozzo, you can hint that I leave all you want, but you're not getting me out."

"Why not?"

"Because, unlike you, apparently, I actually care about things being done right. If someone in the federal government has been abusing a position of power, I want to see that things are made right. Is that too complicated for you?"

"Hey! I'm not the one who was trying to pin a murder on someone!" Tony said, angrily.

"I wasn't trying to pin a murder on anyone, either. I was trying to find the truth...and one of us was making it as difficult as possible and playing around as if it didn't matter. And it sure wasn't me."

"I wasn't..."

_Thwack!_

"Knock it off," Gibbs said. "And I'm not afraid of smacking _you_ if you deserve it, Agent Sacks. If you're staying, you're following _my_ lead, got it?"

Sacks nodded.

"All right, Agent Gibbs."

"Good. Both of you, shut up."

Tony grumbled but stopped talking, and an awkward silence fell.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A man was walking toward the main entrance, but he remembered seeing him leave not too many hours earlier. He could just be an employee who had a lot of work to do in and out, but something told him that this was someone else...possibly someone doing the NCIS agents' dirty work.

He put his gun down and picked up a camera. He zoomed in as much as he could and took a picture.

He'd have to find out who this man was. Hopefully, it would be nothing and he could go back to the hunt, but sometimes, distractions were important to have. It wouldn't do to have the prey suddenly become the predator, the hunted suddenly become the hunter.

He was very determined to keep his role as hunter, as predator. It was too important to give up...especially to someone like Tim McGee.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Fornell walked into the building.

"Back again, eh, Agent Fornell?"

Fornell grimaced a little.

"Looks like it, Henry."

"You should just give in and join up with NCIS."

"Never going to happen," Fornell said. "I learned my lesson about taking Gibbs' leftovers once already."

Henry chuckled.

"Sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself."

"No. I'm convinced. Thoroughly convinced."

"And yet you keep coming back."

"If Gibbs would stop getting himself into trouble..."

"You'd be so bored over there at the FBI without us."

"And what a wonderful day that would be."

"Go on in, Agent Fornell, and don't let them tie you down."

"I won't."

Fornell continued on in. He went to the bullpen and found Tony sitting at his desk.

"DiNozzo, what did you do to get kicked up here?"

Tony grimaced.

"Sacks is down in the lab, waiting for results. I decided I'd be better off not down there."

"Sacks is downstairs? Why?"

"He wanted to see what came out of the blood he found."

"Blood?"

"On the doorframe of the back entrance at DARPA."

"Interesting. I need to talk to Mr. McGee. The younger one, not his father."

Tony grinned. "You'll have a hard time getting them separated."

"Well, I'm not going to deal with a father hen. Mother hens are bad enough."

"I'll let you give the word, then. They're down in the evidence garage."

"They can't stay down there forever."

"Yeah, but there's no sense in inviting trouble before we know how bad it's going to be. It's been bad enough already."

Fornell nodded.

"I'll take you down."

Tony led Fornell down to the evidence garage. When he got off the elevator, he saw Tim and Loren sitting together. Tim looked like he was asleep, and Loren was staring at the floor.

"Admiral McGee?" Tony said quietly.

Loren turned around and he stiffened a bit at the sight of Fornell. Fornell just smiled.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I need to talk to your son, Admiral," Fornell said.

"He's asleep right now."

"I can see that. Would it be too much trouble to wake him?"

Fornell could see Loren deciding whether or not this was something he should be angry about. Then, he took a breath and turned around. He leaned over and shook his son gently.

"Tim?"

There was no response for a moment, but then, Tim shifted position and winced. His eyes opened and he looked a little loopy.

"Yeah?" he asked, thickly.

"Agent Fornell is here and he'd like to talk to you."

"Who?"

"From the FBI."

"Oh."

Tim struggled to wake up and Fornell could see that there were probably some painkillers involved. He managed to sit up and rubbed at his face with one hand. The other arm was immobile.

"Does it have to be now, Agent Fornell?" Loren asked.

"Yes," Fornell said. "This is a serious matter and I'm not going to take another step until I've spoken to your son. Alone. In fact, if you're up to it, Mr. McGee, we'll go upstairs to a room with natural light."

"That doesn't seem safe."

"He's not going to be sitting in the window, Admiral," Fornell said.

"Why now?"

The only reason Fornell wasn't walking out already was because he wanted to give Tim a chance to wake up enough to interject. If he wouldn't interject, then, Fornell was going to question sticking his neck out for someone who couldn't do anything on his own.

"Dad?" Tim said softly.

Loren instantly turned back to Tim.

"What?"

"I'll talk to him. This is my mess. If he's going to help clean it up, I can talk to him. ...and it would be nice to have some sunlight. This place is depressing."

Fornell smiled and turned to Tony.

"DiNozzo, take us up to a conference room."

"All right," Tony said. "Can you get up on your own, McGee?"

Tim slowly swung his legs over the side of the cot and tried to stand. He wobbled and sank back down. Before Loren could move in to help, Tony intervened and got Tim on his feet.

"Here. You can lean on me, McGee. I'll get you upstairs and show the way at the same time."

"Thanks," Tim said. "I'm sure Dad needs a break from me."

He smiled a little at that, but Fornell noticed that Loren looked anything but happy about it. However, he didn't mention it. He just followed Tony and Tim onto the elevator. Tim was still a little out of it, but he was walking.

The elevator ride was silent. Then, Tony led them to a conference room and helped Tim sit down in a comfortable position...away from the window. Fornell sat down as well.

"Thank you, DiNozzo. You can go and tell Gibbs that I'm up here."

"Thanks for the permission, Fornell. Enjoy."

Tony left and Fornell looked at Tim. Tim blinked a few times and then looked at him.

"So...what do you want to know, Agent Fornell?"


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Tim didn't look happy, but there was a look of strength in him that Fornell hadn't seen on their first meeting. It helped that he didn't seem to be on the painkillers at the moment or at least, they had worn off mostly. There was more pain in his expression, but a lot more comprehension, too. He sat down, facing Tim directly.

"Mr. McGee..."

"Could you not call me that?" Tim asked, dropping his gaze to the table.

Fornell's brow furrowed.

"Why not?"

"It's not logical. It's just stupid, but I'd prefer not to be called that."

"Okay. I'll call you whatever you want."

"Thanks. What do you want me to say?"

"I want to hear everything that you have to tell."

"Don't you already know about it? I thought Agent Gibbs had told you everything."

"I've heard about it from other people. I need to hear about it from you."

"Why?" Tim asked, looking up at him.

"Because this is heavy stuff I'm getting into. If I'm going to call in the number of favors I'll have to in order to get something done, I need to know what kind of man I'm doing it for."

"You don't have to," Tim said. "You don't have to get involved. I'm not really worth it, Agent Fornell. I'm a nobody who probably wouldn't have had much of a life even without what happened when I was younger. My one attempt at taking control of my life led me to where I am now...with absolutely _no_ control over my life. I wouldn't ask for anyone to risk anything for me."

"Then, why are the NCIS people doing just that?" Fornell asked, interested in Tim's perception.

"I have no idea," Tim said. "All I did was make things worse for them from the moment I met them. Dr. Mallard felt pity for me when my girlfriend was murdered."

"Murdered? By whom?"

"By a man who had killed someone else. She saw the murder, but no one believed her. She told me about it, and I insisted that we try to do something about it. He heard us and killed her for it." Tim stared at the table. "Then...Mr. Orlen."

Fornell felt a surprising rush of pity for Tim. In a job he couldn't escape, doing things he hated, girlfriend murdered, family threatened. There wasn't much going for him. He _wasn't_ the kind of person one would generally think was worth risking so much for. ...but as far as Fornell was concerned, Tim was only making himself more worth saving. So, either Tim was completely oblivious to the effect he was having, or he was the most conniving human being Fornell had ever met.

"What was he to you?" Fornell asked.

"My controller...but the one person who kept me from that room that still makes me feel like a little kid."

"What room?"

"Room 23 at DARPA. I only went in there when they decided I needed to be reminded of what could happen if I stepped out of line."

"And what could happen?"

"They'd kill my father," Tim said. "They threatened my whole family, but it was always my father they came back to. And I know this is stupid, but I couldn't ever forget that Mr. Orlen's last name had the same letters as my dad's name. It just kept me remembering what could happen. I don't know if they realized that or not, but I sure did." Tim smiled a little. "I'm really glad to get up here and have sunlight, but I'm sure it's nothing to how my dad feels. My dad is probably relieved that he got away from me for a little while."

Fornell was surprised at that. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I mean...my dad is an admiral in the Navy. He does things. He doesn't sit by a sick bed and wait for things to get better. He doesn't like sitting around, and I've been so... afraid of everything that...that I've needed him just sitting there to remind me that he's okay. I'm sure he's tired of it."

Fornell wasn't sure how Tim could have missed Loren's need to be near his son. It was so patently obvious that Loren's only frustration was that he couldn't save Tim from his demons that it was almost laughable that Tim would think his father wanted to get away from him. ...but he'd swear that Tim was being sincere.

"Anyway, that's really not what you need to know. Do you want me to start at the beginning?"

"Sure."

"I hacked DARPA when I was seventeen."

That was still impressive in Fornell's mind, but he didn't say anything about it.

"It was the stupidest thing I've ever done. I did it with the idea that they'd catch me there and then, the Navy wouldn't want me and my dad couldn't force me to join up. I wanted to go to MIT. I got in and jumped around. I didn't realize where I'd been at first. I was just trying to make noise so that I'd be noticed. I was, but by the wrong group of people at DARPA. I went into a section of the DARPA site that was...not supposed to exist. I saw something I shouldn't have seen. A program for developing bioweapons. I didn't know it at the time. I don't know if I would have realized later and told someone but I didn't know what I'd seen. That didn't matter, though. Mr. Orlen showed up at the house and arrested me. He told me that what I'd done could put me in prison for the rest of my life and could ruin my father's career. I hadn't thought of that, either." He smiled falsely and looked at Fornell. "I was a stupid teenager."

"Most teenagers are, from what I understand. _I_ never was, but..."

Tim didn't respond to the joke. "Not like this. I could have destroyed everything my father had worked to gain...from about ten minutes of trying to get out of the Navy."

"If other teens haven't managed that, it's only because they were lucky."

Tim just shook his head. He seemed more tired and worn than anything. He had been afraid and shrinking away before, but now, that emotion seemed to have passed, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

"Anyway, I agreed to work for them. I couldn't see the possibility of things getting better than what I had been offered."

"What did they offer you?"

"A job. Working for DARPA. The alternative was life in prison as a traitor."

Fornell was interested in seeing the way that Tim had been manipulated, and it _had_ been complete manipulation from day one. If it hadn't been for these people discovering him, Tim would have been given a pass, more than likely. He was a stupid teenager, skilled yes, but not malicious, not worth the effort. They still might have wanted him to work for them, but they wouldn't have done this. Instead, he'd been forced into an impossible choice, and no one else had known enough to say otherwise. Day one...thirteen years ago. Years and years of manipulation, no escape. Tim's reactions were still being dictated by that. You didn't throw off that kind of lengthy manipulation in a few days. How long it would take, Fornell had no idea, but he was getting more and more of a feel for why Tim acted the way he did.

"A prison with bars or one without bars. At least in the one without bars, I could pretend the prison didn't exist most of the time. It worked...until now."

"Are you an employee of DARPA or of this group you say is hiding within DARPA?"

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said.

Fornell raised an eyebrow in reply.

"I get a salary. I have since I was seventeen. I pay taxes. I'm an employee. I have Top Secret clearance. No one thinks it's strange if I have work I do that I can't talk about. I've been on a number of projects. I've _led_ a number of projects. What I do for...them...is just always in the background. When they decide that I'm getting too comfortable outside, they confine me to the building for a week or more. ...and I work. When they decide it's enough, I leave."

"I hope you realize that most occupations don't require that kind of _work_."

Tim laughed humorlessly.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Agent Fornell. I wasn't really expecting you to tell me that it was normal."

Fornell smiled. He was glad to hear a bit of spunk from Tim, even if it was coming in the form of sarcasm. He wanted to know that there was more to this man than submission. He decided to push a little more.

"Good. So...Tim?"

"That's fine."

"Did it ever occur to you to say no or to point out that it was illegal?"

Tim laughed again and rubbed at his shoulder. It was interesting how often he laughed without having any real humor attached to it.

"I was seventeen years old, Agent Fornell. Seventeen. While I was a stupid teenager and hacking DARPA was my attempt at rebellion, it's a far cry from fighting with my father to being threatened by men who seemed like they really were willing to kill the people I loved if I didn't stay in line. I did what they told me to do and I never told a single soul until now. If you're going to ask if I knew it was wrong, I'll tell you. I knew, but I didn't think about it. In fact, I thought about it as little as I possibly could because I didn't see any way out of any of it. I still don't, not really. People keep telling me that I have a chance to escape, to get away from them, but I can't imagine it. Not at all. My only real acknowledgment was my small delays I put in over the years. I couldn't stop them, but I could mess up a variable, give attention to something, making them slow down. I never did anything else. If you want to condemn me for that, feel free."

There was some anger, not much, but some. Fornell felt no interest in condemning Tim, but he did want to know more.

"Why is it that they could use your father as such an effective threat? Why not your mother or your sister? Sounds like you didn't get along with him."

"I didn't...but if all this did anything, it got my dad and I closer than we'd been since I was really young...since he realized that I didn't want to be like him. I don't know how they knew that he was an effective target, but he was. I don't even know _why_ it was so effective...but it was. They threatened my whole family, but whenever they got specific...it was always my dad. I guess that's why I've been so afraid of him getting hurt. He's the one they used...and then, when I saw Mr. Orlen and they said it could have been my dad getting shot. I was so mixed up. Part of me couldn't even comprehend what they were saying to me. All I could see was my dad lying there on the floor, his brains, his blood all over me." Tim swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

Another feeling of sympathy. Seeing someone get killed or even just seeing someone who had _been_ killed was hard the first time. For Tim, it appeared that he had only been able to experience the shock. Instead of calming him down, they wound him up even more. A violent threat backed up with even more threats. No wonder he'd lost it.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" Tim asked after a few seconds. "I can give you all the details of what I did for them."

"I don't need that. Gibbs gave me copies of everything you got from DARPA."

Tim furrowed his brow.

"Then...why all the questions? You already knew my back story. You already know what I've done for DARPA. What's the purpose of all this?"

"A few things, but most importantly is you."

"What do you mean?"

Fornell smiled.

"This is a serious thing I'm getting into. To get any positive results, I'm going to have to call in favors. You don't get as far as I have in my career without having a few people owing you. Some people in pretty high places. ...and with what's going on, your situation calls for very high places. You do realize, I hope, that if we don't play this right, you'll be the fall guy."

"I will?"

"Yes."

"Why? I wasn't the one making the decisions. I was doing what I was told."

"Yes, and you're a nobody," Fornell said, bluntly. "These other people are dangerous and they have power. They'll get quietly taken care of, but just to make sure that the public knows they're taking care of the problem, you'll be the one everyone sees. ...unless we make it more important to get them than to punish you."

"And how will you do that?" Tim asked. "I _am_ a nobody."

"Only from their perspective. You witnessed a murder. In fact, your clothes were covered with spatter from that murder. It'll be hard to claim you didn't see it happen. We haven't found his body at this point, and we may never find his body, but we can prove a murder occurred, and we may be able to prove it happened _at_ DARPA."

"How will that help?"

"Because, if I whisper the right words into the ears of the right people, they'll cut their losses. NCIS doesn't actually have much clout, you know. It's the FBI that gets things done," he said with a grin, hoping that Tim would repeat that to Gibbs or anyone on his team. "They call me when they need help with the more important things."

"And why do you need to talk to me first? You have all the facts already."

"I don't generally make important decisions based only on facts, Tim. If I was relying only on facts, I'd forget all this and go back to work."

"But..."

"I need to know who _you_ are, to see if all the effort it's going to take for me is going to be wasted or not."

"And?"

Fornell smiled.

"I have one last question for you."

"What's that?"

"Since you're going to be unemployed soon, what are you going to do instead?"

"Huh?"

"You're going to need a new job. What are you going to do?"

"Uh...I don't...have the slightest idea," Tim said.

"Start thinking about it. Once this gets going, you're not going to have a lot of downtime to consider it. I'll go and get DiNozzo to help you back to the basement."

Fornell started to leave.

"Wait! Agent Fornell, wait."

Fornell turned back and saw Tim sitting there, staring at him like he was an alien.

"Yeah?"

"Why would you be willing to do this? Why for someone like me? For a nobody."

"Because I'm not the kind of man who would leave someone in a situation that he so obviously hates. I also have seen that there's more to you than the scared little boy I saw downstairs. You have a lot of potential that's being squashed by your need to toe the line...but it's not gone. Since you have it, you deserve the chance to see where it takes you. I wouldn't recommend the DoD as a potential employer. They'll be gun-shy."

Tim was still staring at him with more than a little befuddlement.

"I'm not...really qualified for anything. I didn't even go to college. Not a day."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find something. Maybe even here. Gibbs has been known to take on some...unique agents." Fornell started to leave again, but stopped one more time. "Oh, and one last thing, I don't know if you've paid any attention, but your father has only one thing he wants right now, and that's to save you from what's going on. He can't and that's frustrating to him, but he has no desire to get away. He _wants_ to be here. Now, I'll go find DiNozzo and let you back to your convalescence."

Fornell left the conference room and saw Tony standing right there.

"Waiting patiently?"

"Nope. Impatiently. All done?"

"Yeah. Is Sacks still here?"

"He hasn't come up yet," Tony said, sounding grumpy.

"He's a good agent, DiNozzo. Not his fault someone was framing you."

"Whatever."

Fornell grinned. "Well, he's ready to go back to his hideout. I'll go down to the lab and see what's up. I know the way."

Fornell headed down to see if anything had been discovered.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Tony walked back into the conference room. He had no idea what had put Fornell in such an annoyingly good mood, but it seemed like it was a good change from his dismissive attitude before.

Tim was sitting where Tony had left him, looking a little lost.

"Hey, McGee. You ready to go back to your glamorous, yet temporary, residence?"

Tim looked at him.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Helping you back downstairs? Well, I don't think you'd make it on your own. You're looking pretty pale. Getting shot can do that to you."

"No. Why?" Tim looked around the room. "Agent Fornell seemed more impressed with me than I deserve. He's apparently going to give up a lot of favors to try and get me out. You've all put your lives on hold here. Why? What reason could there be?"

Tony walked over and sat down across from Tim.

"Do you really not know?" he asked.

"No."

"Because you need help, McGee. That's the only reason we need. You need someone to help you. We can do that. So we are. Why not?"

"Because I'm making your lives so much harder. You can't go home. I'm halfway to another meltdown every second. I'm acting like a child...and an annoying child at that. The kind that people want to smack upside the head just to get them to grow up a little. Agent Gibbs had to call in a favor to help me. I just... I'm not used to..."

"To people caring?"

Tim looked at the table.

"Erin was the...the last one who..."

"Yeah. I'm really sorry about her, McGee."

"Me, too."

"And that's another reason we want to help you."

"You said you only needed _one_ reason," Tim mumbled.

Tony smiled. "Sure, but that doesn't mean there _isn't_ more than one reason. We can have lots of them, but we only _needed_ one."

"So...Erin was another reason?" Tim asked. "But all I did was accuse you of being at fault...when I was more at fault than you were."

"Neither of us were at fault, McGee," Tony said, firmly. "We didn't kill her. Neither did you. None of us wanted her dead."

"I know." Tim took a breath and let it out loudly.

"We could all see how much it hurt you, and when we realized how important she was to you..." Tony hesitated. "I haven't forgotten what you said."

"What do you mean?"

"You said that no matter how much you hurt Pryor, it couldn't be as bad as how much he had hurt you. You already had been smacked pretty low. We had no idea how much worse it could be. Once we knew, we couldn't let things stay the way they were. ...even if you told us we should."

Tim sighed.

"Hey, come on. I know the basement isn't the best place in the building, but let's get you back down there and you can rest some more."

Tim didn't protest and so Tony helped him up and took him back down. Loren was waiting, anxiously.

"How much longer will we be stuck down here?" Tim asked.

"Not sure. Hopefully, not too much longer. We're getting things figured out, but it takes time...especially when you're working against people who are already under the radar."

Joan and Sarah came over.

"We'll try to be patient," Joan said, "but what is it that we're waiting for?"

"A sign that we're going to succeed," Tony said. "Right now, even with the information McGee gave us...we don't have anything really certain, but we're getting there. We're closer now than we were and hopefully, in a few hours, we'll be able to say more."

Tim nodded, although he didn't look very happy about it. Tony didn't blame him. Tim probably ached, probably was miserable, and probably just wanted this whole mess to be over. Loren helped Tim back to his cot, and Tim was asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. After that, Joan and Sarah sat down by him. Loren walked back to Tony.

"Agent DiNozzo, you weren't just blowing smoke, were you?"

"About what, Admiral?"

"About getting somewhere. You really mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it."

Loren paused for a moment and looked back at Tim. Then, he looked at Tony again.

"Is there any way that I could be involved?"

"I don't know, sir. It's not procedure to have family join in the investigation."

"This isn't exactly a normal situation all around, though, is it?"

"No. It's not. I'll see what Agent Gibbs has to say."

"Thank you."

Tony watched as Loren walked away from Tim to a solitary corner of the garage. He didn't think Gibbs would go for letting someone obviously very personally invested in the case get actively involved in it...but Gibbs had done stranger things.

Thankfully, it wouldn't be his decision. He would just ask as had been requested.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby felt the pressure of all the eyes on her. Normally, she liked having all the attention, but she was really conscious of how important these results might be. It was worrying, just a little bit.

"How long do you think this will take, Ms. Sciuto?" Fornell asked.

"Any second now," Abby said.

She also didn't like that Sacks was there. Abby still hadn't forgotten about how she had been fooled by forensics and that Tony had almost paid the price for that. While Sacks wasn't the bad guy, he still had been the one to use her results. She didn't like it when forensics got hijacked.

The results pinged on her computer and she smiled with relief.

"The blood sample matches," she said, putting it up on the big screen so everyone could see it.

"Matches what?" Fornell asked.

Abby raised her eyebrows at Fornell and then at Gibbs.

"Matches what, Abbs?" Gibbs asked, almost smiling.

"The first sample is the DNA and blood type of one Philip Orlen, employee of the DoD. The sample came from his official record. The second one is blood and brain matter I pulled from Tim's clothes, the ones he was wearing when he says that Philip Orlen was shot right in front of him. The third is the blood sample that Agent Sacks took from the doorframe at DARPA. They all match. They're all from the same person. Philip Orlen."

Fornell walked forward and looked at the results.

"So he's definitely dead, then? It was a kill shot?"

"With brain matter on Tim's clothes? Oh, yeah."

"And it couldn't be him who did it?"

Abby bristled.

"I have to ask, Ms. Sciuto. You know others will, too."

She wrinkled her nose.

"No. It couldn't. The location of the brain matter on Tim's clothes was such that he had to be facing Orlen when he was shot. So there's no way Tim could have killed him."

Fornell was quiet as he stared at the screen.

"Well, Fornell?" Gibbs asked. "What are you going to do, now?"

"Sacks, make sure that you don't leave the building with me," Fornell said without looking away from the screen.

"Why?" Sacks asked.

"Because I don't want the two of us connected by anyone who is likely watching NCIS right now."

"Watching NCIS?" Abby asked.

"They'll know that you're not at hospitals. They know you're NCIS. If there's not at least one person keeping an eye on this building, I'll shave off what little hair I still have."

"It might be an improvement," Gibbs said.

"Ha. You have a group of people who thought nothing of shooting a man in the head just because, if Tim McGee is correct, he dared ask a question. They also haven't hesitated to shoot Tim McGee himself, probably to keep him quiet. We're doing more than asking questions. I don't know if they'll be willing to kill us, too."

"What are you going to do?" Gibbs asked again.

"I'm going to _think_, Gibbs," Fornell said. "It might be a foreign concept to you, but I'm going to take some time to think. Once I get started, this is going to start hurtling at the speed of light and I doubt any of us can stop it. I'll keep it slow as long as I can."

He was quiet again.

"Sacks, head back to the office. We'll talk there."

"You sure?"

"Go. Thanks for taking that on."

"Don't keep me out of this. I want to know how it falls out."

"I won't."

Sacks nodded and left.

"How much thinking do you need to do, Tobias?" Gibbs asked.

Fornell sighed.

"I talked to him upstairs, Jethro. You can't leave him like this. Even if they weren't going to kill him, he's on the verge of giving up. Knowing that these guys have committed murder, premeditated...I don't see how I can _not_ do something, but it's going to take some time. Not more than a day or two, but I have to get in to see certain people."

Finally, Fornell looked away from the screen.

"You need find the person watching NCIS. I don't know who it will be, but based on one of my sources, it's probably Marc Tueller...and he's the most dangerous, physically."

"What source?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't ask you about your sources, Gibbs. Don't ask about mine. He's reliable, and that's all that matters. He'll take a shot the first time Tim steps outside if he's the one watching. ...and I don't know if you can depend on another miss."

"If he knows all of us, then, he can avoid us," Ziva said. "It does not sound like he is...an amateur."

"I'm going to leave that to you to figure out," Fornell said. "I've got some people to talk to. I need a copy of all these results, Ms. Sciuto."

Abby quickly printed them off and handed the pages over.

"Thank you."

"Watch your back, Tobias."

"I will."

Abby watched him go and then looked at Gibbs.

"What are we going to do? We can't keep Tim inside forever!" she said. "And his family can't stay here forever, either!"

The doors opened and Tony came in.

"What did I miss?"

"The blood Sacks found was Orlen's," Ziva said. "And apparently, Fornell is convinced that there is someone watching NCIS, probably Tueller."

"The sniper guy?"

"Yeah, and he's going to talk to some people."

"Will it do any good?"

"Depends on what he finds. Where's Ducky?"

"I don't know. He wasn't in the evidence garage. Tim is asleep again, and his family is all there with him."

"Right by him?"

"Two of the three," Tony said.

Gibbs nodded.

"So...what are _we_ going to do?" Abby asked.

"Boss, Admiral McGee wanted to know if he could be at all involved in what we do."

"Involved?" Ziva asked. "How?"

"Any way he can, I think," Tony said. "He's feeling useless...and helpless, unless I miss my guess."

"What would he do?" Abby asked. "He's an admiral in the Navy! He's not trained for any of this...is he?"

"He'd do anything that we'd let him do," Tony said, "but I told him that I didn't think you'd say yes, Boss."

Gibbs didn't answer instantly. Abby could see him trying to figure out some way to get Loren involved without compromising what they needed to do. She wasn't sure why, but she guessed it had at least something to do with the obvious tension between some of the members of the McGee family.

He looked at the three pictures of the people Tim had identified as being involved in this mess.

"Fornell's right. There's someone watching us, and we need to know who it is."

"But how are we going to do that, Gibbs? They obviously know who _we_ are. How else would they have found your home?"

"And what do you want me to tell Admiral McGee?"

Gibbs looked at Tony and then back at the photos.

"I'll talk to him, myself."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Marc Tueller continued to watch people go in and out of the NCIS building. Then, he saw the older man he'd seen before and he checked to see if he'd had any reply to his photo.

He had.

"FBI. Tobias Fornell. What is your role in this?" he said softly. "Multiple times in such a short period. Why?"

Could the NCIS people have connections in the FBI who would get their hands dirty? It didn't seem especially likely, but Tueller knew that it was dangerous to make assumptions. He had the feeling that something would happen soon and he would need to be ready for it.

He smiled at the building.

"You can't stay in there forever," he whispered. "You'll have to come out at some point."

And it would be even better if he could twist the knife once more before the end. They'd always been able to use Tim's father as an effective threat. Orlen's report on Admiral McGee's reactions had been extremely useful. The conflicted nature of their relationship, plus the support that the admiral had been willing to give to his son when the chips were down... That kind of complexity made threatening him so easy.

If they came out together...

Another smile and a soft chuckle.

"Two shots. Two kills."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Tony crept across the rooftop of NCIS, trying to stay out of sight. The first task was to find the sniper if he was there. It wouldn't make much sense for him to be on the roof here. Too much security he'd have to get through. It was possible, of course, which was why he was checking, but it wasn't likely.

He searched the entire rooftop and found no sign of anyone there. Then, he ran back to the exit where Ziva had been on guard and searching for someone on one of the nearby rooftops.

"Anything?" he asked.

"No. I have seen no one on the other rooftops, but they could be hidden," Ziva said.

"Yeah...but they'd have to be within view of the entrances. That's pretty confining."

Ziva considered, looking around.

"There is really no space that would be open enough to cover every entrance...unless there is more than one."

"I guess that's possible, but Fornell didn't seem to think that was the case."

"It is a matter of whether or not he is really informed or is just guessing."

"Yeah."

Tony looked around.

"If this guy is as good as Fornell implied, he won't need to be close. He could be pretty far away. All he needs is one clear shot." Tony glanced sideways at Ziva for a moment.

Neither of them had forgotten what had brought Ziva onto the team.

Ziva looked at him for a moment and then stepped away. She walked to the edge of the building and stared toward the river.

"What about there?" she asked.

"Where?"

Tony walked over to where she was looking.

"There."

The _U.S.S. Barry_.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked into the evidence garage and was almost disappointed to see the continued segregation of the McGee family. Joan and Sarah were sitting by Tim...who was sleeping again. Loren was standing alone, facing away. He didn't have his usual perfect posture.

"Admiral," Gibbs said softly.

Loren looked at him and reacted instantly. He squared his shoulders and seemed almost eager. Before Joan could do more than turn toward Gibbs, Loren had reached him.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"

"Can you come with me for a minute?"

"Of course."

Loren followed Gibbs to the elevator. Once the elevator started moving, Gibbs turned it off. Loren managed to look surprised only for a moment.

"What is it, Agent Gibbs?"

"Tony told me that you want to help."

"Yes. If there's anything I can do."

"Why?"

"Why?" Loren repeated. "Because what you're doing is freeing my son from the prison he's in. Why would I _not_ want to be involved?"

"Your wife and daughter haven't expressed any desire to be directly involved."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that I don't need a martyr, Admiral McGee. If something were to happen to you, Tim's mental status would be that much worse, even if he got out. I'm not interested in putting you on the front lines so you can be the hero you wish you'd been thirteen years ago. So when you ask to be involved in what we're doing, I need to know your reasoning."

Loren was quiet for just a moment, but he squared his shoulders and stood to attention.

"You may be right, Agent Gibbs. I'll admit it, that...I need to make up for what I didn't do before... But I don't want to be a martyr, not in the way you're saying. I would do anything for Tim now. I would give my life for him."

"Can you _live_ your life for him? That's harder to do."

Admiral McGee smiled a little.

"Agent Gibbs, is there any way that I can assist you in freeing my son from his captors?"

Gibbs smiled back. He could see that Loren wasn't going to confess to anything more. He also knew that he'd been heard and that was as important.

"I'm not sure right now. I will tell you that Fornell thinks the sniper probably has followed us here. Until we can verify that, it will be too dangerous to leave the building, but we can't put it off forever."

"How will you verify it?"

"Tony and Ziva are checking that out right now."

"But you don't know if they'll succeed?"

"We have to be careful. So far, he's only fired at Tim, but I'm not willing to lose anyone else on my team to a sniper bullet."

"Anyone else?"

"I had an agent who was shot a few months ago. By a sniper. It was a shock and shouldn't have happened. I won't let it happen again."

Loren was silent for a moment, considering the options, planning. Gibbs could see he had thought of something.

"What about...bait, Agent Gibbs?"

"Bait?"

"Apparently, these people have been using _me_ to keep Tim in line. Threats against _me_. What if, instead of having me as the whip to keep him down, you use me as the bait to get Tim free?"

"I said I don't want a martyr, Admiral."

"I'm not asking to be a martyr, Agent Gibbs. I'm asking to be a part of this in a way that might help you find this man who shot my son. ...to keep him from trying again. He might take a shot at me if I was actually in his sights."

Gibbs looked at Loren for a long time in silence. To Loren's credit, he said nothing more. He had introduced an idea and now he was waiting for a response. There was no reason to try to say more. There _was_ a feeling that he was waiting for a superior officer to give him a dressing down.

And this idea of his. Gibbs was hesitant to put Loren in that position. That kind of risk was more dangerous than he would like. There was no way to protect him fully if Tueller was out there and ready to take a shot. He had toyed with them in the initial shot. He'd had a clear kill shot and had decided to wound instead of kill. He could easily choose to do that again...only to kill the father to torture the son.

At the same time, it _could _work as he had suggested. If Tueller took a shot at Loren, that would locate him and give them a chance to take him out. They could take precautions.

...and they couldn't tell Tim about this because he wouldn't be able to deal with it. In his current state, he would be more likely to freak out again if he knew his father was going to step into the line of fire.

"Well, Agent Gibbs?" Loren asked.

As if he could tell Gibbs had made a decision.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was sitting in his office, thinking about the family who had come into his circle. A young man who had been, essentially, a prisoner for almost half his life, hidden in plain sight. A sister whose life had been defined by the experiences of her brother, leading to anger at a system she couldn't fight. A mother who had almost walked away because of what had happened to her son, which would have broken a family already on shaky ground. And a father who had been completely changed by his son's captivity, to the point that he had punished himself for it. Tim's time with DARPA had drastically changed his entire family, and not for the better, in most cases.

If they managed to free him from the grip of these men, what new shape would the family take? In a way, there was as much risk of fracture with freedom as there had been with captivity. Any sudden change would create uncertainty. The balance that had been achieved before might not be ideal, but it was still balance. With Tim free, the focus of much of their lives would be removed and that balance would be gone.

His mind kept going back to two instances. First, when Tim had come to his home and asked him to stop trying to help. Ducky had gone to check on his mother and then, when he had come back to the kitchen, Tim had been sitting at the table, utterly dejected. Once he was aware of scrutiny, he had straightened and hidden his feelings, but he had let them out upon further questioning. Second, Loren's unconscious slump. As soon as Ducky pointed it out, he straightened, determined not to show that fear and shame in such an open way. Tim and his father were so much alike, both affected by the same situation...only Tim's current situation had been the final blow against Loren's self-perception. His core had rested upon a foundation that Tim's situation had destroyed.

Ducky hoped that Loren's state of mind would be calmed by getting rid of the danger to Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, Fornell. Tell me what's going on now," Sacks said.

"What's going on is that I'm deciding how high I need to use up favors to help get Tim McGee out of his situation without ending up in jail."

"Who? You or him?"

Fornell smiled. "I'd prefer both."

"Who are you going to first?"

"You sure you want to know any more, Sacks? You can still walk away from this unscathed...and you have a lot more years left than I do."

"The federal government is, unknowingly or not, helping these people kill, experiment on, and assault innocent people. I can't walk away from this. You should know that by now."

"I do. Just giving you a chance. It's not wrong."

"It would be for me."

"Okay."

Fornell gestured for Sacks to sit down and he pulled out all the information he'd taken from NCIS.

"These three men are apparently the ones we have to worry about. They're as high as it goes, but it's bad enough. I know that Marc Tueller, the sniper, is a dangerous man to be taking on."

"How dangerous?"

"Dangerous enough that _Kort_ told me to watch my back."

Sacks' eyes widened just for a moment.

"Okay. What about the other two?"

"Do you really think I'm stupid enough to tell Kort _everything_ I know?"

Sacks smiled. "Just checking."

Fornell went through the bioweapons being developed, the experiments, the murders and then he sat back and waited. Sacks was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. One of the things that Fornell had appreciated about Sacks was his willingness to go to uncomfortable places if that made the most sense. ...but he also wouldn't jump in without thinking first. He might still decide to jump later, but at least he thought about it, first.

"You're going upstairs, aren't you," he said finally. Upstairs meant only one place in this context.

"Yeah. Probably."

"Then, I'd better come with you. She likes me more than she likes you."

Fornell grinned. "That's only because she hates me so much. There's only one person lower than I am on her list."

"Okay, then. Let's go."

Together, they headed up to _her_ office.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stirred a little and Joan smiled to cover her worry as she brushed light fingers over his forehead. Loren hadn't returned after Gibbs had come to speak with him a few minutes before. She knew that Loren was seeing more and more how much Tim had lost. At one time, she would have told him it was no less than he deserved. ...but now, she was just hoping that her family could be put back together again...or maybe for the first time ever. Tim and Loren had become close. Loren and Joan had worked through their issues. But as a full family...they danced around the issues. Sarah had grown up with a lot of anger, mostly at her own powerlessness, but it had manifested itself in anger at Loren, and Loren had accepted it as what he deserved. She knew all that and all her efforts to ease the tensions over the years had come to nothing.

She didn't want to lose anyone in her family at this point, and she was afraid that Loren would do something extreme just to make up for what he hadn't done before.

But she didn't want Tim to think about that, and she didn't want Sarah to blurt it out, either. So she was keeping her worries to herself.

"Tim? Are you waking up?" she asked softly.

"Dad?" he mumbled.

"Your father is talking to Agent Gibbs. He'll be back soon," Joan said before Sarah could bristle at his question.

Tim was trying to wake himself up. The painkillers knocked him out every time he took them, but it was so nice to see him without the pain, even if it was frustrating for him to have his mind blunted by them.

Tim's eyes opened and then drooped closed again.

"He's okay?" he asked.

"Yes. He's fine," Joan said, again keeping Sarah from saying something rude.

Sarah rolled her eyes, and Joan gave her a _look_.

"I hate feeling...so...tired," Tim said.

"It's better than feeling hurt," Sarah said, acknowledging her mother's silent order.

"No...I'd rather hurt," Tim said.

"You say that until they wear off," Sarah said, lightly.

But she wasn't right about that because Tim hadn't really complained about the pain. He had only complained about not being able to think. However, Dr. Mallard had said that Tim _needed_ to spend time without pain, that it was better for him.

Tim started to struggle to sit up, and so Joan helped him.

"Where's Dad?" he asked after a few seconds.

"He's talking to Agent Gibbs."

"About what?"

"I don't know," Joan said. "He came down here and asked to speak to your father. Don't worry, Tim. Your father is more than capable of taking care of himself."

"He's an _admiral_, Tim," Sarah said. "He knows what to do. You don't have to worry about him."

For a wonder, Sarah even managed to keep her tone even, without sounding disparaging. That was a major achievement.

Tim smiled a little bit.

"Can't help it," he said. "Too hard to change right now. You sure he's okay?"

"He's fine," Joan said.

"I hope this is over soon," he said. "I'm tired of being in here...and I feel bad for the...NCIS people who are stuck here, too."

"They _want_ to help you, Tim," Sarah said. "They're doing what they can and they want to."

"I don't want them stuck here."

"Then, we'd better get you out of this as soon as we can," Joan said. "You've done your part, Tim. All you need to do is relax while they figure out the next step."

"Is that where Dad is?" Tim asked, suddenly looking worried.

"Tim, your father is perfectly safe," Joan said. "All you need to do is worry about yourself."

Joan was relieved when Tim nodded and tried to relax. After a few minutes, he fell asleep again.

"I hate that he keeps worrying about Dad," Sarah said softly. "He's the only one who's in danger. The rest of us are fine."

"Don't keep harping on that, Sarah," Joan said. "Tim has enough problems."

"And Dad isn't one of them!"

"It doesn't matter whether he is or not. Tim has to work through this as best he can."

Sarah sighed. "Dad is in the building like the rest of us are. There's no reason for Tim to think anything will happen to him. Besides, the only one who's been hurt is Tim."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you sure about this, Boss?" Tony asked. "I can see a lot of ways this could go _really_ wrong."

Gibbs didn't even dignify the question with an answer. He was watching Loren.

"Can you tell it's there, Agent Gibbs?" Loren asked.

"Close up, I can see it," Ziva said. "I do not think it will be apparent in a sniper scope."

Gibbs walked around and looked at Loren's appearance from all sides.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Admiral McGee?" he asked. "You can't back out, once you start."

"I haven't changed my mind," Loren said. "Just make sure your people are in place so that they can find him if he takes a shot."

"All right. Let's go, then."

Tony headed back to the roof to take up observations while Ziva was going to attempt to get closer with the intent of being able to intercept should this pan out as they hoped it would. Gibbs led Loren to the front entrance.

"Remember that if he does take a shot, you take cover. No trying to get to him. Just protect yourself. Leave the rest of it to us."

"Understood, Agent Gibbs."

"All right. Go ahead."

Loren took a breath and walked toward the doors. Just before he walked out, Gibbs saw him hesitate and then square his shoulders.

The doors opened and Loren stepped out of the NCIS building.

Out into the open, hoping that a sniper would shoot him.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"Agent Fornell...I'm not sure this is a good idea."

Fornell grinned.

"It isn't, but it's necessary."

"She told me that I should kick you out if you ever showed up unannounced again."

"Well, you go in there and tell her Agent Sacks and I are out here."

"Not this time."

Fornell leaned over the desk and smiled.

"After you tell her that we're out here, tell her one name. I guarantee she'll tell you to let me in."

The secretary sighed. "What name?"

"Marc Tueller."

"Okay."

She got up and walked into the office.

"You sure she'll go for it?" Sacks asked in a low voice.

"If Tueller is as connected as Kort intimated he is, then, yes. She'll let me in if only because she wants to know why I'm involved. ...and she may feel like it's genuine since you're here and she knows how honest you are."

"Ah, so you really _did_ want me here."

"Your tendency toward following the rules does rub off on me a bit. Sometimes."

The door opened.

"You can go in, Agent Fornell."

"Thank you," Fornell said. "I told you she'd want to see me."

"She _doesn't_ want to, but she's letting you in."

Fornell and Sacks walked into the office.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tueller noticed a man coming out of the front entrance. He watched him for a moment and then lifted his binoculars. A smile crossed his lips as he recognized the father. He walked to a bench and sat down, rubbing his hands over his face.

So he thought he was safe, did he. Safe enough to take a break while everyone else hid in safety. Idiot. Just because they never had attacked any of the family before didn't mean they couldn't do it now. And given that Tim had chosen to violate their agreement, it was only right that punishment be given.

Punishment meant that his family would pay the price for his disobedience...as they'd always said would happen.

He waited patiently for the best angle to shoot from. He could try for the head. It would definitely leave more of a mess to clean up, but while he knew that he was better than most snipers, that wasn't as sure as it would be if he just took a body shot. If he didn't get a kill shot on the first try, all he had to do was follow it up with more shots. A good grouping would kill just as well.

Carefully, he lifted his gun, double-checked the scope and then waited for the best shot.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Loren was more than a little nervous as he walked across the street to Willard Park. He hadn't been in action for years. A lot of years. And even when he _had_ been, it had been with a weapon in his hand and men to back him up. He'd never just walked into possible danger alone. He had been raised to follow orders and do what was needed. There had never been any desire to go beyond those limits.

And now...he was going beyond his own usual limits. He was walking out into the open, hoping to get shot.

...in the chest, in the back. _Not_ in the head.

He sat down on a bench and looked around. He'd never been to the Navy Yard before. None of his postings had been here. Anytime he'd been in DC, it had been for political reasons.

Loren sighed and stared at the ground for a few moments. Then, he forced himself to stand. Why make it more difficult to take anything but a head shot?

Was Marc Tueller even hidden here? Fine thing it would be if he was wandering around out here in the park with no one watching.

There were a lot of things that could go very wrong with this whole plan. What if he saw through the ruse? What if he wasn't there? What if he had armor-piercing rounds? What if? What if? What if?

Still, Loren wanted to be involved in this and, if his only role was as a target, he was all right with that. It was hardly worse than what Tim had been facing for his whole life.

_How could I have missed how bad it was?_

For the millionth time, Loren asked himself that question. It shouldn't have been that hard to notice how bad Tim's life was. It shouldn't have been difficult. He should have noticed. He should have seen the torment his son was suffering.

He turned toward the _Barry _and wondered if he should walk any closer to it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The angle was perfect. He'd just turned directly toward the ship.

Perfect.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva crept along, keeping herself hidden for as long as possible. She could see that she'd run out of cover soon enough. How well did he know her appearance? She couldn't be sure, not knowing how long he'd been watching them. Currently, she running along the the far side of building 101, hoping that the cars in the parking lot would give her enough cover to come at the _Barry_ from the east instead of the west. If he did take the shot and they were right about his location, then, Tueller would have to get off the Yard. It was possible that he'd choose to swim across the Anacostia, but that would take time and would be more than a little risky. More than likely, he already had a plan in place to escape and so she needed to be close enough to catch him.

If he was there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sarah walked into the bullpen, looking for her father. Tim was starting to worry about him again and while Sarah got annoyed by it, she didn't want to make Tim suffer more just because their dad wasn't around. If Tim needed to _see_ that he was perfectly safe, then, she'd find him and get him back down there.

But no one was in the bullpen, or at least no one that she recognized.

"Excuse me," she said to a woman passing by. "Have you seen...Admiral McGee? My dad? He was with Agent Gibbs."

"I think they went down to the front entrance."

"Thanks," Sarah said and walked to the elevator. Why would they be down there? They were all staying inside until they figured out how to catch the bad guys.

She rode the elevator down to the entrance and saw Gibbs standing by the door.

"Agent Gibbs," she called and hurried over. "Where's my–?"

Then, she looked out the doors.

Just in time to see her father stagger backwards, hands to his chest, and fall to the ground.

"DAD!"

She tried to run out, but Gibbs held her back.

"Sarah, you can't go out there."

"DAD!"

He wasn't moving on the ground.

"Henry! Hold her here."

"You can't leave him out there, Agent Gibbs! You can't..." Sarah didn't know what to say. She couldn't look away from her father, lying on the ground. Unmoving.

"No..."

Other hands were on her arms, holding her back.

"Stay here, missy," an old voice said. "Let them do their jobs."

Then, Gibbs went out the doors, leaving Sarah to stand there, looking at her father.

"Why did he go outside?" she whispered. "Why?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_You'd better have seen him, DiNozzo."_

Tony smiled as he looked through his binoculars.

"I've got him, Boss. The bridge of the _Barry_. He must have cut out a hole or something because the windows look normal."

"_You see Ziva?"_

"Nope, but that doesn't mean she's not there. I can't see him moving out, yet, either."

"_I am almost to the ship, Tony,"_ Ziva said.

"I can't see you."

"_You are not supposed to."_

Tony laughed.

"_Ziva, you got him?"_

"_Not yet. I have been watching. He has not yet left the ship."_

"I'm coming down," Tony said.

"_No, don't. I want you to be watching in case he makes a run for it. Lovitz will be out here."_

"Is Admiral McGee all right?"

"_Don't know yet. Haven't got over to him."_

"_Can you see me, now, Tony?"_ Ziva asked.

Tony refocused and saw her. It was like she had appeared out of nowhere.

"Be careful. He could draw a bead on you."

"_I will not get in his sights."_

"Good."

Tony kept watching the bridge. Finally, he saw movement.

"Ziva, he's on the move. He's going around the back and I can't see him now."

"_Understood."_

He watched as Ziva started to run. At the same time, Agent Lovitz took off across Willard Park and Gibbs headed for Loren. Tony kept his eyes trained on the _Barry_, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tueller, hoping that he wouldn't get away to try again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs knelt down beside Loren and smiled with more relief than he wanted to admit.

Loren was lying there, breathing heavily, staring up at the sky.

"How are you feeling, Admiral?" Gibbs asked.

"I thought it would be more convincing if I stayed where I was," he said.

"Did it get through?"

"No...but I wish it had. I've never been shot, Agent Gibbs...but I think it would hurt less than this."

"Only because you'd be dead," Gibbs said, noticing where the hole in his shirt was.

Right over his heart. Tueller had great aim.

"Might be preferable. My chest aches."

"You'll probably have a good bruise there."

"Do I have to sit up, now?"

"Probably would be a good idea."

Gibbs didn't tell him that Sarah had seen him fall. He wanted to let him think only about himself for a few minutes. It was probably nearly the first time since Tim had started working for DARPA.

Carefully, Gibbs helped Loren sit up. Then, he jumped to his feet when he saw someone running from the _Barry_, down the gangplank.

"Stay here, Admiral," he said.

Then, he got up and ran toward the pier, gun out.

"Tueller! Stop! Federal agent!"

The man stopped and then, lifted his rifle. Before he could do more than that, he lurched forward and fell the rest of the way down the gangplank and lay unmoving at the bottom.

There was Ziva behind him. Clearly, she hadn't shot him. Gibbs ran the rest of the way, and Lovitz came from the other side of the ship. They converged on Tueller.

"I hit him," Ziva said. "I thought it would be better when we need answers."

She raised her eyebrow at Gibbs in a silent question. Gibbs nodded.

"We do need answers."

"The admiral?" Lovitz asked.

"Bruised but fine."

"His daughter is nearly having a conniption inside."

"We'll get him in there."

"Good. What about _him_?"

"Arrest him. Attempted murder, assault, murder and wrongful imprisonment."

Tueller groaned.

"Will do."

"Go with him, Ziva," Gibbs said.

"Yes, Gibbs."

Gibbs headed back to Loren who was still sitting on the ground, rubbing his chest.

"Feeling better?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure. If I'm supposed to be," Loren said.

It was probably the first time he'd been completely disarmed since they'd met him. Even his voice was different. There was no business-like tone, no admiral. He was just a man, feeling a lot of pain.

Gibbs held out his hand. Loren looked up at him and then at the proffered hand. He took a breath and then winced.

"We'll have Ducky check you out," Gibbs said and then changed his mind about how to get Loren upright. If there was internal damage, then, it would be better not to put extra pressure on his sternum.

He walked around and lifted Loren to his feet. He winced and rubbed at his chest, but almost instantly, he straightened and walked beside Gibbs toward the building. Although clearly in pain, he tried not to show it.

"Not down where Tim is, I hope."

"Not necessarily."

"Good. He doesn't need to know about this."

Loren rubbed at his chest again.

"Then, you might want to change your shirt. I don't think he'll miss a bullet hole."

Loren looked down at his shirt. Then, he looked at Gibbs and smiled a little.

"Good point, Agent Gibbs."

They reached the entrance and stepped inside.

"DAD!"

Gibbs looked at Loren's expression. It was shocked. Then, there was someone running at him. Gibbs slowed the approach down.

"Take it easy," he said. "He's kind of sore."

Sarah threw her arms around Loren's waist and hugged him as if her life depended on it.

"I thought you were dead!" she said, sobbing as she hugged him. "I saw you lying there on the ground! You weren't moving!"

For just a moment, Loren looked like he didn't know how to react to his daughter. He even seemed a little helpless about what to do. Gibbs raised an eyebrow and Loren flushed a little. He hugged his daughter, although he winced.

"It's all right, Sarah. I was wearing a vest. I'm fine."

"I've been saying that you weren't at risk. Only Tim was. Nothing was happening to you, but..." She kept crying.

It might have been the first time father and daughter had hugged in years, Gibbs thought. While he couldn't have planned it, this may have gone a long way toward repairing some of the lasting damage.

Loren kept his arms around her, but there was a tinge to his skin that told Gibbs he needed an examination and some pain relief, more than likely.

"Sarah, Ducky needs to check your dad out. Make sure he's okay."

Sarah let him go and looked at Gibbs and then back at Loren.

"You said you were wearing a vest," she said.

"I was...I am."

"The bullet can still cause damage. Bruises at the least."

"I'm sorry," Sarah said.

Loren smiled a little awkwardly. He didn't seem sure about how to interact with his daughter at this point. Probably, many of their past interactions had been layered with varying degrees of conflict.

"It's all right, Sarah. You didn't know."

There was that formal tone to his speech again. He didn't know what else to do, and he hurt enough that he wanted to get to a place where he didn't feel the need to conceal it.

"What were you doing up here? It's not safe," Loren said.

"Tim was worrying about you. I was coming up to find you."

"Why don't you go back down and tell him I'll be there in a few minutes," Loren said. "Don't tell him about this. He can't handle it right now and he doesn't need to be worrying."

"Why did you go out?" Sarah asked, her eyes red with tears.

Loren hesitated and then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

"I was helping where I could. Now, you can do the same. Don't tell your brother." Loren looked at Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs?"

"This way."

Sarah walked close beside Loren until they got to the bullpen. Then, she went down to the evidence garage and Gibbs and Loren went to Autopsy.

"You going to make it there?"

"I can walk as far as I need to, Agent Gibbs," Loren said.

That being said, he still was feeling quite a bit of pain as they walked into Autopsy.

"Ducky?" Gibbs called.

Ducky came out of his office and his eyes widened.

"What in the world–?"

"I was bait, Dr. Mallard," Loren said. "And it worked perfectly."

"Bait in what way?"

"We gambled that Tueller would want to take a shot at him, given the chance."

"Oh, dear. You aren't looking very good, Admiral McGee. Have a seat here and I'll take a look at you. At the least, I will get you some analgesics."

"Sounds wonderful," Loren said and sat down painfully on a chair.

"Would like assistance in removing the vest?"

Loren actually looked around the room for witnesses.

Ducky smiled. "No one will see who would think less of you for being injured."

"I guess my position has gone to my head, Dr. Mallard. Admirals don't show weakness to anyone."

"I'm not anyone. I'm a doctor."

"Point taken."

Ducky began to remove Loren's shirt. Then, he carefully took off the vest and tsk-ed.

The bruise hadn't had time to darken yet, but it was clear that it would be substantial.

"Admiral, you will be sore for good while, I think."

"That doesn't surprise me, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky began his examination, probing to see the extent of the pain, whether or not he could find any sign of definite internal damage. After a few silent minutes, during which Loren made no sound at all, he was as satisfied as he could be.

"I think you should get a scan when it's safe to go to a hospital, Admiral McGee, but for now, I think you are just bruised. There is a chance that you could have a stress fracture of the sternum that I can't detect here."

Loren looked at him.

"So...does that preclude giving me some kind of painkiller?"

"No," Ducky said with a smile. "I think I can accommodate you."

"Agent Gibbs, do you have a shirt I could borrow for the time being?"

"I think I can manage that. Wait here."

"Of course."

Gibbs left Autopsy and headed for the elevator. It wouldn't be glamorous but it would suffice.

Come to think of it, he had a call he should probably make.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Fornell's phone started ringing and he smiled when he saw who it was from.

"Oh, I have to take this."

"Who is it from?"

"Gibbs."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"This just keeps getting better, doesn't it."

"I think so." He stood up and walked a couple of steps away but didn't bother to lower his voice. "Hello, Agent Gibbs. You're interrupting a meeting."

"_We got Tueller."_

Fornell was more surprised than he wanted to admit.

"That didn't take long."

"_We used some irresistible bait."_

"What did you use?"

"_Admiral McGee. He's fine, but should probably get to a hospital...as should his son."_

"Are you asking for something?"

"_You're talking to her, aren't you."_

"She thinks of you fondly."

"_I'm sure. Progress?"_

"Not much, but more when I tell her your news."

"_You can tell her this: w__e've now got a murderer in custody. At the least, an attempted murderer since he fired on Admiral McGee with witnesses. He is also the one who shot Tim McGee, and according to McGee, is the one who killed Philip Orlen. This is the same man who has been working in DARPA. Tim McGee doesn't pay for what he was forced to do. I'm sure DARPA wouldn't be happy to have Tueller's actions known publicly."_

"How serious are you about that?"

"_I'll call ZNN myself."_

That didn't surprise Fornell at all.

"Anything else?"

"_If we could have some guarantee that Admiral McGee and his son are no longer in danger, that would be nice. They both need to get to a hospital."_

"Do lives depend on it?"

"_I doubt it, but it would be nice to have verification."_

"I'll see what I can do."

"_Tell her I said hi."_

"I'll wait until later to do that."

Gibbs laughed and then hung up. Fornell took a moment to decide how he was going to go through this. Then, he turned around with his usual smile.

"Marc Tueller is currently in NCIS custody."

She was surprised. There was no question of that.

"What for?" she asked.

"For attempting to kill a Navy Admiral."

"And NCIS is going to pursue it?"

"Apparently, that depends."

"On what?"

Fornell smiled.

"On what you're willing to do to keep this out of the news. Agent Sacks can attest to the fact that Philip Orlen's blood was found at DARPA headquarters. His DNA was on Tim McGee's clothing, proving his presence at the time Orlen was killed, but Tim McGee could not have killed him. He has stated that it was Tueller who killed him. And then, there's all this." He pointed to the file. "One thing will lead to another...especially if you try to prosecute Tim McGee for what he was forced to do."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Two men each related to the same events? One whose defense will be that he was acting under duress? People are going to ask questions, and in this day and age, refusing to answer questions generally makes it worse. And the reality is bad. Fifteen years of covert operations which violate international law occurring _inside_ DARPA...it doesn't look good."

"Agent Sacks?" she asked.

"I collected the blood evidence from DARPA myself. I was present while it was tested and compared to the samples taken from Mr. McGee's clothing. Philip Orlen is definitely dead and he was at DARPA, bleeding."

"Have you spoken to this Tim McGee?"

"No. I haven't. I've only seen the evidence which appears to be solid."

She sighed.

"Do you just _enjoy_ making my life difficult, Agent Fornell?"

"I'm throwing you a bone. I'm giving you a chance to stop this before it gets started. Agent Gibbs isn't going to be patient, and NCIS has Tueller in custody. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, right?"

"What do you expect _me_ to do?"

"Get with your DARPA people and show them what I've shown you. Take down the bad guys and don't punish the good guys for being prisoners. Tim McGee had surgery on his shoulder in Autopsy at NCIS because they didn't dare take him to a hospital after he was shot by Tueller. Currently, they're as worried about the government as they are about Mr. McGee's handlers."

Finally, he had her. Fornell could see it in her eyes although she'd never admit it.

"I'll need time."

"How much? Gibbs will want to know."

She sighed, looked at him for a moment and then picked up her phone. Fornell sat back and waited. He could tell Sacks was wondering what would come of this, but Fornell knew that she had the connections necessary to make this happen..._and_ the authority to be certain that he got what he wanted. It was all a matter of making her see that it was what _she_ wanted, too.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim couldn't get rid of the feeling that something important was going on all around him. Sarah had come back and told him that their dad would be there soon, but she seemed stressed about it. Stressed, not irritated.

"What's going on?" Tim asked.

"The same thing that _has_ been going on," Sarah said.

"No. Something is different. _You_ are acting different, Sarah."

Before he could insist, the elevator dinged and Loren came in, followed by Gibbs. Tim knew his brain wasn't fully engaged. It just wasn't, lately. In fact, he'd found himself saying things that didn't make sense or were just silly. It was embarrassing, but he wasn't completely out of his mind. He knew something was wrong.

"Dad, what's going on?" Tim asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Tim," Loren said.

"Then, what's going on?"

"We have Marc Tueller in custody," Gibbs said, bluntly.

"Who?" Tim asked, not sure why he should know that name.

"The man who shot you, Tim," Loren said.

"And one of the men you identified as being involved in this mess," Gibbs added.

"The one who killed Mr. Orlen?"

"Yes."

"You caught him?" Tim asked, feeling stupid that he wasn't grasping this.

"Yes."

"How?" Tim couldn't even conceive of that man being _caught_. He killed people. How could he be caught?

"We found where he was hiding on the Yard."

"He was here?" Tim asked.

"Yes. On the _Barry_."

"What does that mean?" Tim asked. "Does that mean it's over? We can go?" He wasn't sure he could believe it.

"Not just yet," Gibbs said.

"Why not?"

"Because he's only one of the people you told us about."

"But he's the only one I saw with a gun."

"That doesn't mean no one else _has_ one," Gibbs said, drily.

Tim flushed. This was why he didn't like the painkillers. They left him so fuzzy that he said something stupid without realizing it was stupid until after it was already said.

"It's all right, Tim," Joan said. "No one expects you to be at full form yet. You've gone through a lot."

"I do," Tim said. "I hate being so groggy all the time. It's hard enough to think right now without the painkillers." Something was still pinging in his brain, telling him he should pay attention.

Then, finally, it hit him. It had taken time, but the thing he should have noticed right away got into his brain.

"That's not your shirt, Dad," he said. "Why are you wearing a different shirt than you were wearing before? And don't tell me it's nothing. I _know_ there's a reason. Why?"

Tim watched as Loren looked at Gibbs and then at Sarah and finally at Joan. So they knew, then. There was something _to_ know...and he didn't.

"What is it? I can see you all looking at each other." Tim sat up straight, ignoring the strain on his shoulder, although it did hurt. "Look, I know I've been stupid lately, but I'm not a child. What is going on?"

Loren sat down beside him.

"I was helping take Marc Tueller into custody, Tim. I got a bit scuffed up. I knew you'd be upset if you found out. So I changed my shirt and I hoped you wouldn't notice."

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, feeling that same mindless panic he always felt about his father.

"Tim, clearly, I'm fine. If I wasn't I wouldn't be here. My shirt got scuffed up. That's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Tim, don't panic. There's no need. I'm here. I'm fine. Just like before. That man is in custody. There's no reason to panic."

"So...what happens now?" Tim asked, trying to reign in his fear, which, logically, he knew was ridiculous.

"Now, we wait for Agent Fornell to do some work on his end. It might take a day or two, but when we can, we'll take you to a hospital and get you checked out."

"I'm not okay?" Tim asked...and then felt really stupid again. The others around him were smiling a little. "Besides the obvious, I mean."

"We just want to make sure that Dr. Mallard didn't miss anything when he did the surgery. The conditions weren't ideal."

"Oh." Tim sat for a moment, feeling a little uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being the center of attention. "Then, what?"

"What do you mean, Tim?" Joan asked.

"After all this, if I'm really free, what, then? I have no degrees. I have a high school education and I can hardly plan on a letter of recommendation from my current employer. What can I do?"

"Tim, we'll figre that out as we go. Let's just take one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay...I guess." Now that he didn't have a job to do, Tim just didn't know what to do with himself. When he thought about important things, he panicked and acted like a child. He never really had time to himself, had rarely _tried_ to take that time.

...except for those few months with Erin. That time that could never be long enough for him.

It was the first time he'd thought about her in what seemed like forever. In a way, her death had been the catalyst that had given him the chance to be free.

_I would have given that up for her,_ Tim thought to himself. If he had been able to have Erin alive, he would have stayed imprisoned for the rest of his life. She would have been worth it. The loss of her couldn't be made up by his freedom.

Gentle arms around him brought him out of his bitter thoughts. He looked at his mother and then leaned against her and let her soothe him back into sleep, even though he didn't want to sleep again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Joan looked at Loren but said nothing until she felt Tim relax completely. Then, she carefully eased him back down onto the cot and turned on her husband.

"Just what did you do to _help_, Loren?" she asked in a furious whisper. "I can tell when you're hurting. You're hurting now. What happened?"

"It wasn't anything big, Joan," Loren said, standing to face her.

"Dad got shot," Sarah said in a shaking voice. "I saw it."

Which explained Sarah's muted reaction to Loren, Joan realized.

"You got _shot_?"

"I was wearing a vest, Joan," Loren said. "I wasn't in danger. They needed someone to draw Tueller out. They thought he was there, but they didn't know where he was."

Joan rounded on Gibbs.

"You let this happen?" she asked. "You let my husband get himself shot?" Then, she turned back to Loren. "Do you _know_ what Tim would have done if something had gone wrong? Do you _know_ what that would have done to _all_ of us? How could you?"

Loren stopped her rant the same way he always had. He said absolutely nothing. He just stood there, waiting with that infuriating calm for her to stop talking. It revealed nothing of what he was feeling, but she knew how real Tim's situation had become for him. He was trying to expiate the damage by taking some of it onto himself. Joan looked at him for a long moment. They had taken too many years to get to this place and she couldn't bear to lose him. Not now, not when they had a real chance to be a family again.

She was quiet for a few seconds and then, she hugged him, gently, not knowing just how sore he was, but she felt him tense in a way that said she'd hurt him, although he'd never admit it. Joan let him go quickly and gave him a look. He actually smiled at her. Yes, he knew what she was thinking and he knew that she was aware of his dissembling. For now, she'd let him keep it hidden. She would see what the actual injury was later, when they knew more.

At the end of the day, though, it seemed that progress was being made, and that was wonderful.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Gibbs went up to the bullpen and found Ziva and Tony talking quietly together.

"What's happening, Boss?" Tony asked. "Not even Ziva has got Tueller to say anything. He's confident that he's getting out of it. Is he?"

"No," Gibbs said. "Fornell is making sure he won't."

"How? Last I checked, we can't dictate to DARPA...even with all the stuff that Tim found...or especially with the stuff that he found. Fornell is right. They won't want this getting out, and if DARPA demands that Tueller be transferred...I don't know if NCIS has the clout to stop it."

"That's why Fornell is making sure that doesn't happen."

"How?" Ziva asked. "Who is he using?"

Gibbs smiled. "She's a mutual acquaintance. She hates us both."

"Why?"

"Because Fornell saved her life and her reputation, using me to do it. So she owes us big time, more than she can repay, and she knows it."

"Who is she?"

"Right now, she's one of the deputy directors of the FBI. Formerly, she worked at DARPA. She has more connections than anyone in this building...and the power to make use of them."

"And she will?"

"If Fornell works his magic, she will. ...and she'll hate us even more."

"So...she and Director Shephard can get along?" Tony asked.

Gibbs let out a short chuckle which he quickly suppressed. Back to business.

"We'll hear from them sooner rather than later. Make sure everything is ready to hand over."

"We're just going to _trust_ that they'll do the right thing with it?" Tony asked.

"No."

"Ah. I'll make sure we have copies."

Gibbs smiled a little. Always anticipate.

"Gibbs, how are we going to make sure that nothing more happens to McGee?" Ziva asked. "Yes, we have Tueller in custody, but there are two other men who are involved...that we know about. Even if McGee did not see anyone else, does that really mean it is only these three we should worry about? After all, he does not seem to be thinking clearly."

Gibbs considered the question. It was a good question, but at the same time, he was starting to trust Tim's skills, even if his mind wasn't completely on track yet. When he was working, he was doing his best.

"He's thinking clearly enough. Track down the other two. I want to know where they are and whether or not they're aware of what's happened."

"On it, Boss."

Gibbs knew that Tony and Ziva would get that done. There were more aspects to this than just the case. There was Tim. He couldn't be forgotten in the chaos of figuring out how to wrap this mess up. It would be far too easy for him to be lost. The issue was that DARPA might be hoping for just such an occurrence so that they could sweep the whole thing under the rug, and Gibbs would not stand for Tim being punished...or left behind.

He had no doubt that, with Fornell going where Gibbs had never thought he would, things would move quickly. Once she was convinced, she didn't waste time. He didn't want to be caught unprepared.

Gibbs left Tony and Ziva to it and headed down to Autopsy.

"Ducky."

Ducky looked up from his perusal of a pile of paper.

"Yes, Jethro. What is it?"

"Could you do this down in the evidence garage?"

Ducky's brow furrowed.

"May I ask why? Do you think that Timothy's health has declined?"

"No. I think that we'll be moving him to a hospital soon and I want to make sure someone is with him from here."

"Why?"

"Once this gets going, it's going to be fast. I don't want it to be so fast that McGee gets left behind."

"And you think that my presence will prevent that?"

"If you're there, you won't _let_ him be forgotten," Gibbs said, drily.

Ducky smiled.

"How soon will it _get going_?"

"I'm guessing that we have a couple of hours at most."

"That fast?"

"Fornell called in a major favor, maybe one of his best cards. It won't take long for it to pan out."

"Interesting." Ducky looked at his papers. "Yes, I can do this anywhere. I'll go down and check him over and then, park myself beside him until you see fit to say it's not necessary."

"Good."

Gibbs turned to leave, but Ducky stopped him.

"Jethro, thank you for doing this."

"It's my job, Duck."

"Not for doing your job, but for caring about this young man simply because I asked you to. You had no reason to do it and it has been inconvenient, even dangerous for you to do so. I could not have done all that has been done for him on my own. Thank you."

Gibbs smiled. "Anytime."

Ducky smiled as well. Then, he picked up his papers and followed Gibbs to the elevator.

"When this is over, Jethro, what do you think will happen?"

"Don't have a clue, but the important thing is that he'll have a choice."

"Yes. I hope that he gets the chance to do as much of what he wasn't allowed to do as possible. Some chances are, perhaps, lost forever, but not all."

"He'll have the chance. It's all a matter of what he does with it."

"Well, I have every intention of making sure he does _something_ with it."

Gibbs didn't doubt that for a moment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, Abbs. Impress me," Tony said.

"I always impress you, Tony," Abby said with a grin. "I can't help but impress you."

Tony winked. "Always."

"Can you impress him with something that has to do with this case?" Ziva asked.

"Of course! So since Tim did all the leg work for me in finding the names, it was just a matter of making the legs run."

"And how far did they run?" Ziva asked.

"Really far. These are marathon legs. Maybe even triathlon legs!"

"I can't wait to see," Tony said.

"Okay. So we know where Marc Tueller is. He's in holding. But then, we have these other two men. The first is Darren H. Lander. This is the one Tim said did all the talking. Second, we've got Alexander Mellon. Or I should say _Doctor_ Alexander Mellon."

"Doctor?" Ziva asked.

Abby nodded. "Dr. Mellon who specializes in biomedical engineering. He got his M.D. 20 years ago. Got hired by DARPA two years later."

"So he's been working for DARPA for 18 years, and according to McGee, he's been developing bioweapons for 15 of those years. Classy guy."

"And Lander?" Ziva asked.

"He's been working for DARPA for 30 years," Abby said. "Mostly classified projects for the military. And before you ask, Tueller was hired 16 years ago...by Lander himself."

"The question, then, is whether Lander started this or Mellon. It does not seem to have been Tueller," Ziva said. "His skills are not in the area of developing bioweapons. He is the force behind them. He is not the man with the ideas."

"Okay. So how does Philip Orlen fit into all this?"

Abby nodded. "Orlen was hired about a year before Tim started working at DARPA, not by Lander, but he started working with Lander and Dr. Mellon just about three months before Tim hacked DARPA."

"He may never have known exactly what was going on," Ziva said. "The genuine employee to cover their tracks."

"And at DARPA, there are so many classified projects that he would know not to ask questions."

"Until the end, when he asked the question that got him killed. Still, he must have known that Tim was under duress in some form and he never did anything to stop it before. I have to say that I'm not very sympathetic to him," Tony said. "Okay...so can you tell us where they are now? ...besides Tueller since I know where he is."

Abby grinned.

"Okay. So...as far as I can tell, Lander and Mellon have been doing their normal activities. It doesn't look like they're aware that we've got Tueller yet. Lander bought gas yesterday with his credit card. Mellon's paycheck was deposited this morning."

"I thought it took time to get permission to look at this stuff," Tony said.

"Well...we're not exactly going about this kosher-like," Abby said. "If I asked for it nicely, they'd have time to hide it or themselves. As long as they don't know, it won't hurt us."

"But I wouldn't plan on that for long. If they're as well-connected as it seems like they are, they're going to know that we've got him."

"But we can't arrest them with the information we have...because we did get it illegally," Abby said, with some reluctance.

"That is why Fornell is so important," Ziva said. "We knew that we would not be going the normal route for this, no matter what happened. Knowing where they are, though, will help us keep track of what happens to them."

"What do you think?" Tony asked. "Maybe we should go and watch for them to leave."

"Perhaps...so long as we do not let _them_ see _us_."

Tony nodded.

"So...did I impress you?" Abby asked.

"You know you did," Tony said. "But I'll let Gibbs give you your kiss."

Abby laughed and shooed them out.

Tony and Ziva headed back up to the bullpen. They brought Gibbs up to speed and then headed off to DARPA to have a quiet, low-key stakeout, understanding that they couldn't do anything themselves but wanting to know what there was to know.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs intentionally stayed out of the bullpen, wanting to let her get into Jenny's office without him watching. He'd be called up there soon enough. He was surprised, yet again, that Fornell had gone to her. Of all the favors he could have cashed in, he hadn't expected that he would use that one. Fornell had once said he was saving it until his own life was on the line because nothing else would be worth using up such a choice card. So the fact that he had used it for Tim was almost shocking. Fornell was usually so practical. Not that he didn't care about helping other people but when it came to favors, he hoarded them.

Almost on cue, his phone rang.

"_Gibbs, get up here."_

"How's it going, Tobias?" Gibbs asked, suppressing a smile. Fornell sounded a little grumpy.

"_Find out for yourself."_

Fornell hung up. Gibbs walked up to Jenny's office, passed Cynthia and stepped inside.

"Hello, Lauren," he said, pleasantly.

"Agent Gibbs," Jenny said, sternly.

"Yes, Director?"

"Don't start."

"I haven't started anything...yet."

"There is no need to start throwing threats around," Lauren said, tersely. "You have Marc Tueller in custody. You have accused him of murder and attempted murder."

"I don't need to accuse him of attempted murder. There are multiple eyewitnesses to the second attempt...and it wasn't a nobody like it was the first time he tried. It was an admiral in the U.S. Navy. That's not going away."

"You also have one of the people helping them in this building."

Gibbs stiffened and looked at Fornell who remained stoic.

"I already warned you that Tim McGee was not to be prosecuted _or_ persecuted for what he was forced to do. If that's the way this is going, I'll go and call JAG."

"Jethro," Jenny said, darkly.

"No, Jen. I'm not letting politicians ignore the facts and punish the innocent party. If you're here to do that, Lauren, I'm not playing that game. I don't play games. You should remember that. You've already benefitted from that fact once."

Lauren clenched her teeth for a second and then, took a deep breath.

"I've spoken to some people at DARPA. I gave them the information Agent Fornell shared with me, along with your refusal to hand Tueller over without some guarantees."

Gibbs raised an eloquent eyebrow.

"And, pending my report, they have agreed not to pursue any charges against Timothy McGee."

"And when will you give your report?"

"My report is contingent upon speaking with Mr. McGee."

"No," Gibbs said.

"Agent Gibbs, she's not going to take him anywhere," Jenny said. "I have her guarantee."

"Good. _You've _got it. There's no reason for you to speak to him, Lauren. You have all the data about what they've been doing. You have their identities. You have testimony about Tueller's recent activities. The only thing you don't have is Philip Orlen's body, but you've got his blood and brain matter. There is nothing that Timothy McGee can give you that he hasn't already given."

"He is the central figure in this whole mess."

Gibbs laughed.

"The central figure isn't Tim McGee. He's peripheral. The central figure is whoever started developing illegal bioweapons within DARPA. Either Mellon or Lander. ...or maybe whoever looked the other way while they did it."

"Are you accusing DARPA of _allowing_ these people to violate international law?" Lauren asked with a warning in her voice.

"Wouldn't be the first time...now, would it."

Lauren didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Fornell.

"You're staying pretty quiet over there, Agent Fornell."

"I said what I had to say. I don't need to say anything else," Fornell said.

"You could give your opinion."

"Opinions rarely do anything positive for the person giving them, especially in this situation. I'm not ready to retire yet, ma'am. Nor do I want to end up in jail."

"Agent Fornell, do you agree with Agent Gibbs about Timothy McGee's role in this situation?" Jenny asked.

Fornell looked at her and then at Gibbs.

"You're telling me that you want to know what I think? My opinion?"

"Yes."

"Then, I think that focusing on Tim McGee is DARPA's way of trying to deflect everyone's attention from the real issue."

"And what is that issue?"

"That they were, either intentionally or not, looking the other way while bioweapons were developed under their protection...in direct violation of _international_ law. This isn't just about the U.S., here. If other countries got wind of this, it would be like declaring open season. Even our allies would turn their backs on us, not because they're so much better but because we got away with what they probably _wish_ they could get away with. That's how global politics works. If DARPA can keep the attention on a nobody, then, they can secretly hide all this mess."

"And?" Lauren asked.

"And they apparently don't know Gibbs very well," Fornell said. "Because he won't keep his mouth shut. He cares more about one person than he does about international reputations. You know that already, ma'am."

Lauren looked upset by the reminder.

"Bottom line?" she asked.

"Bottom line is that Tim McGee pays no penalty for what happened," Gibbs said. "He's set free to live a real life. Whatever DARPA wants to do with those three is up to them...so long as they're not able to retaliate against McGee or his family for turning them in. ...and in the meantime, he and his father get some protection to go to a hospital and get real medical treatment rather than what was forced on them because of DARPA's incompetence."

"And I can't talk to him?"

"No."

Lauren looked at Gibbs, and he refused to look away. He could hold a person's gaze with the best of them, and, quite frankly, Lauren wasn't the best...especially when she knew she was in the wrong and that she was, more or less, at their mercy.

She looked away.

"Director Shephard, you will receive a notice of transfer of Marc Tueller within two working days. At which time, DARPA will expect complete cooperation. An FBI team will report here within the hour, with Agent Fornell, to conduct Admiral McGee and Timothy McGee to Bethesda where they can be treated for their injuries. Copies of all data gathered during your investigation should be handed over to DARPA at the time of Tueller's transfer...with the understanding that there will be copies maintained at this facility, although it is also understood that they will be classified Top Secret and treated as such. Do you have any complaints?"

"None," Jenny said, neutrally.

"Good. Agent Fornell."

Fornell nodded and followed her out the door, albeit with one last glance at Gibbs. Then, the door closed, leaving Jenny and Gibbs alone in the office.

"Really, Jethro. Was that necessary?"

"Yes."

"Why? Why antagonize someone who was already here to capitulate?"

Gibbs looked at Jenny.

"Because she didn't _want_ to capitulate. Given any wiggle room, she would find a way to wiggle out of what she knew was the right thing to do. I don't leave my people behind."

"Timothy McGee is not one of _your_ people. The argument for NCIS jurisdiction in this entire case has been microscopically thin from day one and you know it."

"He became one of my people when he asked for help. Until that help is no longer needed, he's one of mine. ...or have you forgotten how that kind of thing works?"

"In case you didn't notice, Jethro, I was not trying to block you in here. There's no need to antagonize _me_, either."

Gibbs smiled cynically.

"You're a political animal, Director. And you were long before you started sitting in that chair."

Then, he walked out of the office, satisfied that things were looking up.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Tim felt someone shaking him gently and he tried to wake up. He hated feeling like this. He wanted to be more in control of himself. He struggled to open his eyes.

"What...is it?" he asked.

"Timothy?"

"I...can't wake up," he mumbled.

"Take your time. You'll get there."

Within a few minutes, Tim felt like he could open his eyes and stand a chance of keeping them open. He shifted around until he could push himself upright. He took a breath and looked around the space.

There were more people there than he expected...and he didn't know them all. That made him nervous.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"It's time to go, Tim," Joan said with a reassuring smile.

"Go? Where?"

"To the hospital," Joan said. "We can leave."

"Then...who are those people with you, Agent Fornell?" Tim asked.

"We're your bodyguards."

"But you said we could leave."

"You're leaving, but we're taking precautions in the transportation, just until we're sure that we have everyone we need to have."

"Oh." Tim tried to get his mind in gear. He had the feeling he should be reacting differently. "So...does that mean I'll get a room with a window?"

Joan laughed. "We'll see if that can be arranged."

"Good." Tim leaned back in the bed and then yawned. ...and then, sat back up. "So...now?"

"Preferably," Fornell said. "We could stay here and stare at you, but it seems counterproductive."

Tim smiled and tried to throw off the lethargy. He scooted to the edge of the bed and tried to push himself upright. Sarah was there to help him up...but he couldn't really lean on her because she was too short. Thankfully, his mom took her place, but that clued Tim in on who was missing.

"Where's Dad?"

"Getting our stuff together so that we can go with you, Tim," Joan said.

"Oh. Okay." That seemed odd, though. Tim knew that his father wasn't generally the one doing the menial tasks. It just wasn't his way. Still, it wasn't like Tim could complain that his dad wasn't here to do the heavy lifting.

"Tim, are you ready to walk?"

Tim realized he'd disconnected again. It was still frustrating.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

Slowly, Tim walked, leaning on Joan as they headed, not for the elevator but for a previously unnoticed garage door.

"How long has that been there?" he asked.

...and it was another one of those stupid statements that kept slipping out of his mouth.

"Don't answer that," he said.

Joan laughed softly.

"Let's just go, Tim. Worry about it later."

They headed out of the evidence garage and into a car. Sarah and Joan sat on either side of Tim. Fornell and another person were in the front seat.

"Where's Dad?" Tim asked again.

"He's going to come over with Dr. Mallard."

"Oh...he was there?"

"Yes. He was," Joan said.

"Okay."

The ride to the hospital was totally uneventful. So much so that Tim zoned out on the way. He didn't see anything even though his eyes stayed open. If anyone said anything to him, he didn't hear it. Then, the car stopped and he was jolted out of his daze.

"Are we there?" he asked.

"Yes, Tim. We are. You ready to get inside?"

"Sure."

Someone maneuvered him out of the car and then, instead of standing, he was sitting again. He looked around and focused all his brainpower on figuring out how he was still moving.

A wheelchair!

Satisfied, he let himself relax a little. Then, he was in a room.

"Mr. McGee? Can you hear me?"

Tim nodded.

"Good. I'm Dr. Channing. We're going to do some scans of your shoulder. I understand that you're a little loopy from the painkillers. Is that right?"

"Yes. Can you make it so that I can think straight without being in pain?"

Dr. Channing smiled. "We can help with it, but it won't be perfect while you're in the early stages of recovery."

"That's what Dr. Mallard said."

"It's true, but let's see what there is under the surface, all right?"

"Okay."

They got him moved onto a flat surface and it was noisy, but he didn't have to do anything besides lie there. Then, they pulled him out and, almost before he realized it, he was lying on a hospital bed, in a room.

And there was a window. He looked at it and smiled.

"There's a window," he said.

"Yes."

"I'm still tired."

"Sleep and maybe you'll wake up more alert later. Things are looking up, Tim."

Tim nodded and let himself fall asleep again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Sarah, stay with Tim, all right? I'm going to go and check on your father."

Sarah nodded and didn't even make a comment. Joan paused and then, walked over and hugged her daughter.

"Don't worry. Things really are looking up, Sarah."

Sarah sniffled a little and nodded. Joan kissed her on the head before leaving to track down Loren.

She was directed to X ray.

"That's my husband. Is he all right?"

"We're just finishing up the X rays now, ma'am. I think he may have a cracked sternum, but as long as he takes it easy for a few weeks, it'll heal up. The X rays will tell us what we need to know."

"Can I go in?"

The doctor checked, held up his hand for a few moments and then nodded.

"Yes. Go on in."

"Thank you."

Joan walked into the room and Loren hadn't had the chance to put on his shirt yet.

There was a large bruise, right in the center of his chest and it suddenly hit her how close she'd come to losing him. He could have died and she wouldn't have known he was even in danger.

She took a deep breath and Loren looked over at her, noticing her for the first time. He looked down at his chest and then up at her again.

Joan walked over and touched the bruise gently. Loren took hold of her hand and pulled it away.

"Loren."

"I'll be fine."

"He would have killed you without that vest."

"That's why I had the vest."

"It's not the vest. Loren...you could..."

"You would have done the same thing if it had been asked of you."

"But it _wasn't_ asked of you, was it," Joan said. "You offered."

"Yes, I did," Loren said, without apology. "I could help, and if I could help by being a target, it was worth it."

"Not if it killed you. That wouldn't be worth it, Loren."

"It's time for Tim to stop putting himself between us and them. He's been doing that for too long. I don't want my son sacrificing himself for me."

"So you'll sacrifice yourself for him."

"Any parent would do the same," Loren said.

"Not like this."

"Even like this. It's just that most parents don't have to."

"You didn't _have_ to," Joan said. "There was no reason."

"Joan, my son has been so obsessed with _my_ safety that when _he_ got shot, his first thought was whether or not I was okay. I can't accept that. I can't sit back and let other people protect him. I can't stand by and watch as my son fears, not for _his_ life, but for mine. I can't. I won't. If getting a bruise on my chest leads to my son's freedom, then, I consider that pain worth it. Whatever it takes so that I don't have to see him like I've seen him these last few days."

"He doesn't blame you, Loren. I told you before. He doesn't begrudge you that."

"I know...and he should."

Loren put on his shirt.

"How is he?"

"Sleeping again, but the doctor thinks that they can help him with that."

"His shoulder?"

"I haven't heard, yet, but he didn't seem very concerned that something could go wrong."

"Good."

"Sarah is sitting with him. You scared her."

"I hadn't planned on that. I wouldn't have done that to her."

"I know, but I think it opened her eyes a bit."

"It could have waited."

"Until when, Loren? Until Tim is perfect so that there's no reminder of what our family was like? Sarah won't forget. She's spent so much time worried about Tim that she forgot that others worry about him, too."

"That wasn't the time."

"Maybe not, but I won't pretend that I'm not relieved that she's letting some of her anger go. We have the chance to really be together as a family. We haven't had that for a long time, Loren. I won't lose that chance."

The doctor came into the room.

"Admiral McGee, I'm happy to say that, while you'll likely be extremely sore for the next couple of weeks, I don't foresee any lasting effects. ...provided you listen to me and take time off. That is a doctor's order."

Loren smiled.

"Thank you, Dr. Morton."

"I'll make a prescription for a couple of days' worth of painkillers, but after that, over-the-counter medication should be strong enough. If you find the pain increasing, come back in immediately."

"Will do."

Dr. Morton left the room and Loren began to walk out. Joan stopped him for a moment.

"Loren, we can be a family. I know you hate knowing what Tim went through, but don't let that poison us. We can't go through another fracture and come out whole."

As she expected, Loren didn't respond, but she knew that he had heard her. Loren rarely responded to emotionally-charged statements. He just wasn't that kind of person, but Joan had learned, long ago, that Loren still felt the emotions even if he didn't like to express them.

They walked to Tim's room. He was asleep, of course, and Sarah looked at them from her position. Loren sat down by the bed. Sarah looked at Joan, looked at Tim's sleeping form...and then, she pulled her chair over by Loren and leaned against him. Joan didn't think she'd seen Sarah seek out Loren's presence since she was a child. She sat down and smiled as she looked at her family. At this point, she'd take any improvement, no matter the reason for it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Whoa, look at this, Ziva," Tony said, nudging her with his elbow.

"What?"

"Isn't that Mellon and Lander...coming out of DARPA...and not looking too happy with their company?"

Ziva leaned forward and peered through the windshield.

Lander and Mellon were clearly being escorted out of DARPA, and the expressions on their faces were anything but confident.

Tony pulled out his phone and called Gibbs.

"Hey, Boss. Should we be worried that Lander and Mellon are being taken out of DARPA?"

"_Together?"_

"Yeah."

"_You recognize anyone with them?"_

"No, but I don't think it's an entourage."

"_Then, they're being taken into custody. Quietly."_

"You want us to follow them?"

"_Yeah. See where they go, but do not get involved unless there's a real reason for it. ...like if they're headed for an airport."_

"Gotcha."

He hung up and put the car in gear.

"We're seeing where they're going. We aren't showing ourselves unless they show that they're breaking the deal Gibbs made."

"Very well."

They followed the cars.

...to FBI headquarters.

Tony made another call.

"Boss, they're at FBI headquarters."

"_Good. Wait for another hour to make sure they don't come out again and then...go home."_

"Go home?"

"_Yeah. The McGees are at Bethesda. Tueller is going to be transferred in the next couple of days. With Lander and Mellon in custody, it's over."_

"More or less?"

"_More or less. Go home."_

"Happy to do it, Boss."

Tony hung up and looked at Ziva.

"We get to enjoy each other's company for another hour and then go home."

"Home?"

"Yep. Guess it's over."

"For us, it is over. Not for Tim McGee. He has a long time before it will be truly over."

"Yeah. You're right."

"I will be happy to get away from NCIS for some time, though," Ziva said. "I do not like being stuck in one place."

"Me, neither."

They settled down to watch the building, hoping that it was the most boring hour they'd spent.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was giving the McGees time alone, but he had parked himself outside Tim's room and was working through the never-ending paperwork involved in his job as an M.E. He wanted to check on his mother, but for the moment, he was staying here. Sadly, his mother was unlikely to notice his absence most of the time.

"Dr. Mallard...what are you doing out here?"

Ducky looked up and smiled at Joan.

"I'm on guard duty...more or less."

She looked skeptical.

"Now that Timothy is no longer under Jethro's watchful eye at NCIS, he wants to make sure that all continues to go well here. He tends to be cynical about politicians and there were a few politicians involved in this. He doesn't want Timothy to be left behind."

"I'd assumed that NCIS wouldn't be involved now that we left the building."

"With some people that might have been the case, but not with Jethro. He has a unique view of the world."

"I'm beginning to see that."

Ducky smiled. "I won't intrude, but I'm here and available if I'm needed."

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard. You've all done so much, sacrificed so much for us."

"Our pleasure."

Joan went back into the room and Ducky smiled to himself as he refocused on his task.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Tim woke up, feeling more clear than he had in days. He moved his shoulder and winced. Okay, so not painless, but he felt so much better than he had that he didn't care about a little pain.

He didn't want to open his eyes but remembered that he was now in a hospital. Not just any hospital. Bethesda.

His family was here, although now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen his dad in a while. How long had he been here? One day? Two days? He didn't know. He had vague memories of getting here, but...

_Where is Dad?_

That thought was followed by another one.

_Stop worrying about him. He's probably so sick of having to reassure me. He's here...somewhere._

"Tim? Are you awake?"

Tim opened his eyes very quickly and started to sit up.

"Dad."

Loren smiled.

"So you _were _awake. I thought I'd seen you move."

"Yeah." Tim looked at his dad. He was sitting rather stiffly beside the bed. Joan and Sarah were both gone somewhere, but his father was there...for the first time in a while.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much more awake which is good."

Loren smiled.

"What's wrong, Dad?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The way you're sitting. You're not moving. Did something happen?"

Tim forced himself up.

"Dad, I can think and I can see. I'm not stupid."

"I never would make the mistake of thinking you were, Tim."

"Then, tell me, Dad. Something is wrong."

"Nothing is wrong...or at least, nothing is seriously wrong."

Tim made it to a sitting position. He looked at his father.

"Please, Dad. Don't hide whatever it is."

"You think you can take it, Tim?" Loren asked, seriously. "I don't want to make things worse."

Tim could hear something more in that. He met his father's gaze and he saw it. He saw it and he understood it because he had felt the exact same way. He reached out with his uninjured arm.

"Dad...you haven't. It's been years since I had anything to blame you for."

"No, you haven't. You've had years that I _am _to blame for."

Tim shook his head.

"No. Dad, you didn't know what they were doing...because I never told you."

"Exactly. You never told me and I just accepted it. ...and Tim, I ruined your life. I've watched what you can do, and...and you should never have been in the Navy. I can't tell you how many times I've wished I listened to you."

Tim didn't think Loren had _ever_ been so expressive. Even when they had talked, there was a lot that was implied, danced around...and not said. He was seeing everything his father was feeling right now, and Tim wasn't sure he knew how to respond to such open emotion from his father.

"Dad..."

"No, let me say what I should have said a long time ago. Tim, I don't know how I let this become reality. I don't know how I fooled myself into thinking this was okay. The worst of it is that you have spent so much of your life afraid for me...and I assumed that things were all right for you, that they were as good as they could be."

To Tim's shock, suddenly, there were tears in Loren's eyes.

"Only to find that they were about as _bad _as they could be...and yet, you didn't blame me for it...and you should. Tim, I can't believe how long it took me to see around my ambition and my sense of family honor. ...and you deserve to hear that from me. I didn't do anything, and I could have. I _should_ have, but I didn't. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for ruining your life."

"Dad, you didn't!" Tim said, almost afraid of seeing his father _not_ fully in control of himself and everything around him. "It was... I can't...pretend that this has been something I enjoyed, but...but I have more that I can do. My life isn't ruined. You did so much to help me, and you didn't reject me when things went bad. I thought you would when they arrested me. And you didn't."

Loren started to turn away, and Tim grabbed his arm. The reaction wasn't what he'd expected. His father winced and rubbed at his chest.

"What happened, Dad?" Tim asked. "Tell me. ...or just show me."

"Tim...it's not necessary."

"Yes, it is."

Loren looked at him for a long moment and then, he nodded. Slowly, he unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. Tim was horrified by the bruise he saw. The significance of its location was instantly apparent. A perfect shot. A _horribly_ perfect shot.

"Dad..." he whispered. "You..."

"I was wearing a vest, Tim. The whole point was not for me to be killed, but to flush out that sniper. It worked. That's how they found him."

"That...could have killed you."

"Yes, it could have," Loren said. "I admit it, and it hurts a whole lot more than I thought it would, but I was willing to do it. It was _my_ suggestion. To get you free."

"I wouldn't... I couldn't have..."

"I know you wouldn't want this to happen. Why do you think I didn't tell you? I'm only telling you now because I know you'd only imagine something worse."

Tim smiled weakly, and he had to admit that a few days ago, he would have freaked out, seeing what had happened. Now, it bothered him. A lot. But he was regaining his usual mental acuity and he could resist the temptation to fall apart. Tentatively, he reached out and touched the bruise, barely brushing the skin.

"I would have done that for Erin," he said. "If I could have put myself between her and the man who killed her. I would have done it in a second."

"You can't always save people, Tim," Loren said. "If you can't, that's no reason to blame yourself."

Tim looked up and smiled.

"That's right, Dad. Sometimes, you can't save people. Not even your own son. I don't blame you for my life because it wasn't your fault. You pushed and instead of pushing back, I snuck around. I paid the price for it."

"You didn't deserve that price, Tim."

"Maybe not, but you couldn't have saved me back then, Dad. I've seen a lot of what these people have done and could do. You couldn't have stopped it, even if you had tried. You didn't have the political pull that you would have needed."

Tim looked at the bruise again, right over his father's heart, and his own heart clenched at the thought of his father being killed...the very thing they'd always threatened him with. He leaned over and hugged Loren, hoping he wasn't hurting him too badly.

"I love you, Dad," he said. "That won't change."

There was a moment of hesitation. Tim knew that his father wasn't generally so explicit in how he felt, but then, Loren hugged him back.

"I love you, too, Tim."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked through the park over to a bench. He sat down and waited.

He didn't have long to wait.

"She didn't fire me."

Gibbs turned and smiled at Fornell as he sat down.

"I didn't think she would."

"She wishes she could fire _you_."

"She wouldn't fire me, either...because she would know that it's better to have me where she can see me than to have me out of sight."

Fornell grimaced and didn't reply.

"Lander and Mellon?"

"DARPA handed them over to us, for now. They're in holding, still in shock that they were caught. Trying to deny everything. DARPA is going through everything to shut down the whole operation."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Too much risk for uncertain returns. They might keep records of the results but the program will be destroyed."

"Do they know about Tim McGee?"

"Probably, but so far as we've been able to tell, there's no one else who has the interest, need or ability to go after any of the McGees. We'll keep looking, but I think they're in the clear. Lander was paying for some people, but they were just being paid. So there's no reason for them to keep anything up. They're willing to give testimony against Lander and Mellon in exchange for leniency."

"Good."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then, Gibbs gave in to his curiosity.

"Why, Tobias?"

"Why what?"

"Why give up your best card for this?"

"Had to use it sometime. Don't want to let it go to waste. No good if the card gets too old."

"The only way _that _card would have aged would be if she died. Why?"

Fornell took a breath and stared out at the park.

"Because Tim McGee has never been able to do this."

"What?"

"Sit on a bench, in a park, without being in someone's control. No one controls me, Gibbs. I don't control anyone else, either. Oh, I have people who owe me, but that's different. My life is my own, and no one should be in a situation where they can't say that. Tim McGee has been for most of his life, in the midst of people who had no idea, and the crap he has to work through will take a long time. When I talked to him, I saw someone who had been stomped on for so long that he was going to be lost. He doesn't even know how it feels _not_ to be stomped on. Didn't want that to happen if I could stop it. I could."

"Kinda mushy of you, Tobias."

Fornell smiled. "Maybe. Good thing for you. You NCIS people couldn't have managed it."

Gibbs chuckled.

"Now, what?" Fornell asked.

"Now, he gets that chance, and Ducky's going to make sure he takes it."

"Good choice."

"No one else could do it."

"At least not as effectively."

Fornell nodded and stood up.

"DARPA isn't happy about all this, but we got them in the right situation and they'll do the right thing. ...grudgingly."

"It's nice that _something_ gets them to do that."

Fornell shrugged. "They're politicians. You may not like them, Gibbs, but they call the shots and they can be reminded of their humanity every so often."

Gibbs laughed and stood.

"Tobias?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Fornell smiled. "You're welcome, Jethro. ...and don't forget. You owe me."

"Big time," Gibbs said.

Fornell nodded and walked away. Gibbs watched him go and then headed to work. He still had a job to do, now that he didn't have to worry about the McGee family.

...or at least, he didn't have to worry about their lives.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Tim was finally feeling recovered enough that he was frustrated with his physical debility rather than his mental fog. He shifted in the hospital bed. While he didn't like being injured, he really didn't mind being in the hospital. What was out there for him, now? He had no job...and his job had been his _whole_ life for more than a decade. And then, his mind went back to Erin yet again. As he had recovered, she had been in his mind more and more. If the panic and fear had been good for anything, it had prevented his feeling the grief of her death. Now... he kept seeing what he could have had with her and never would. He kept thinking about the fact that he was now free to do whatever he wanted and what he wanted most he couldn't have.

He couldn't have Erin.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said.

"Good afternoon, Timothy. You're looking much better."

Tim looked up in surprise.

"Dr. Mallard... What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you, actually."

"Right. I promise, I _am_ thinking clearly now," Tim said. "I'm not as ridiculous as I was. I just... You're free of me, now. You don't have to come and watch over me. Even the FBI is pretty much ready to leave. They're only here as a precaution."

Ducky smiled and sat down.

"I don't think you were ridiculous before, Timothy. You had a series of traumatic shocks, plus a serious and traumatic injury all in a very short period of time. I wouldn't have expected you to remain at the top of your game in that situation. I also know that I don't have to be here. I'm here because I _want_ to be. In fact, whether you are aware of it or not, I've been here every day."

"You have?"

"Yes."

Tim's brow furrowed.

"Why?"

"Because I care about how you're doing."

"But why? You wanted to get me free. I'm grateful for that, but you've done it. There's no reason for you to worry about me anymore."

"Actually, there is."

"What reason?"

"What are you going to do when you leave here?"

"I don't know," Tim said, honestly. "I don't have any plans, right now."

"That's why I'm worried."

The furrow deepened.

"I have time."

"Yes, you do, but I'm worried that you won't take it."

"What do you mean? Of course, I'll take it," Tim said, feeling a little defensive.

"Timothy, I'm not trying to upset you."

"Then, what are you trying to do?"

"I'm worried that you will fall into what you're used to."

"Which is?"

"Having no choices. Being stuck with what there is and not able to find something else because you're not allowed to change. Timothy, even when you had the chance to engage in escapist entertainment, you still trapped yourself."

"What?" Tim asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"That role-playing game in which Abigail met you."

"It was a _game_."

"Yes. A game that people use to escape from their daily lives...and you brought your prison with you. You bound your character in chains."

"It's just a _game_!"

"No, Timothy. It's not, and you know it's not. You are much too intelligent to be unaware of what you had done and why you did it."

"Dr. Mallard...why do you care so much about me and what I do or don't do with my life?"

"You have lost a lot of time through no fault of your own, and I don't want you to lose any more time simply because you don't know how to use it."

"Then, what do I do?" Tim asked. "I don't have a job. I don't have a resume that will do me any good. I don't have any education beyond high school. It's a little late to be starting college, and I'm not sure that anyone would want to admit a random grown man who can't talk about any of his experience. I'm glad to be free of what was I doing before, don't get me wrong. ...but I don't have anything now. ...not even Erin."

"She was your freedom," Ducky said.

Tim nodded. "With her...I wouldn't have done this. I would have been free enough if she had..." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "I almost wish that I still had other things to worry about. Then, I wouldn't have to remember her."

Ducky squeezed Tim's uninjured shoulder.

"No one can fully understand another's pain, but I can empathize. You have lost more than a job."

Tim nodded again.

"While you can't get her back, there is much that you _can_ achieve, but you have to be able to open your mind to it. Don't hold yourself back out of fear or guilt. While I didn't know Erin Kendall, if she felt about you as you obviously feel about her, she would want you to take control of your life and be happy."

"Easier said than done," Tim said.

"Yes. That's very true, but the key is that it _is_ done."

Tim leaned back and stared at the ceiling. No one had even addressed his future up to now. His family was too focused on the fact that he was free, that they didn't have to worry about him. Gibbs had come by once to check on him, but that was it.

"What I want you to know is that you have the chance to have a real life, and I am offering myself up for help if you want or need it."

Tim looked at Ducky again, remembering how Ducky had been so insistent on helping him when Tim had tried to refuse his help. Here he was again, offering his help when Tim hadn't even _considered _wanting help.

"Thank you... Dr. Mallard."

"My pleasure, Timothy."

"I need to think."

"Of course. You haven't had as much time for thinking as I'm sure you want. You can call me at any time if you wish to talk. I won't even give advice if you don't want it."

Tim smiled.

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard."

"And, if you wish, you don't have to call me Dr. Mallard. You may call me Ducky. ...but only if you want to."

"Okay. Thanks."

Ducky smiled as if he could see Tim's reluctance to be so familiar and he understood it. Maybe he really did. He seemed to understand Tim's mind more than Tim himself did at times. Ducky patted Tim's shoulder and let himself out.

Alone again, Tim leaned back and started thinking about what Ducky had said.

...it was hard.

There was too much crap in there, too much that was keeping him from thinking as he should. How could he really think with that stuff?


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

_One week later..._

Gibbs walked through the halls of DARPA, not really happy about being there, but glad that he'd got a call to come. Better him than anyone who worked at DARPA.

He walked to the only room with a door ajar. It was labeled as Room 23. That room had come up before.

He got to the door and looked inside. There was no sign of the horror that had occurred in there. The room was mostly empty. A table. A few chairs.

...and a man.

He was sitting on one of the chairs, elbows on his knees, his back to the door.

"Tim?" Gibbs said softly.

Tim didn't turn around.

"What are you doing here, Agent Gibbs?" he asked.

"Wondering the same thing about you."

"I'm trying to stop being the wimp I have been. I'm trying to see this as just a room. I'm trying to be free in my mind."

"And?"

"And I'm failing," Tim said. "I'm failing because it isn't just a room. This is where they controlled me. This is where they killed Mr. Orlen. ...and I'm... can't stop being afraid of it."

"Did you expect to right away?" Gibbs asked.

Tim didn't answer, but that didn't matter. It was obvious that the answer was yes. Tim _had_ expected to change right away. He _had_ expected to overcome his fears as soon as he was able to think again, as soon as the actual threat had been removed.

"You're not going to do that right away. Thirteen years doesn't go away in two weeks."

"I'm so tired of being afraid."

"Good. You can work on it, then."

"This is my nightmare," Tim said. "This is the worst place in the world, but to anyone else, it's just a room. There's no torture chamber. It's the people...and the people aren't in it. It shouldn't scare me anymore. The people who made it frightening can't do that anymore. Why can't I accept that?"

"Because the torture you went through didn't need machines. But it was still torture."

"How can I get my life back if I can't stop thinking about this room?"

"By taking your time and not expecting the impossible."

Tim sighed and still didn't turn around. Gibbs decided to say something he generally didn't bother with.

"And by following the rules."

"What rules?"

"You shouldn't be in here. This isn't your place of employment anymore. You don't work here, and there are restrictions on who is allowed in."

A long silence.

"You're saying that I have to listen to them even after everything they did?"

"That's not them. It's DARPA, and they have rules."

"Rules I have to obey?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Never had to before. The rules _I_ had to obey were the ones where the only other option was a threat to my family."

"Exactly."

Gibbs could see that Tim was tense and stressed, but this was something he needed to understand because if his only reason for obeying rules and laws was a threat, he still was under their control. ...and he could very easily fall into a life that he didn't really want.

"I don't get it."

"We obey rules and law to keep order...and to show respect. This is how society works. If you're not willing to obey a law because your family isn't being threatened, then, they're still controlling you. They're still telling you what has to be done and they're still making you do things. You shouldn't need to be told what to do through violence."

"Maybe that's all I'm good for."

"No, it's not."

"Then, why can't I think about this logically?"

"Because you're not going to be able to look at this part of your life logically. Not now, maybe not ever. It doesn't mean you can't have more."

Tim stood and turned around. He was still wearing a sling to keep his arm immobile, but he barely seemed to notice it. His focus was on his mind...as it had been since they'd first started trying to get him out. He didn't care about his shoulder. He was worried about how he reacted, how he thought, what he was supposed to think.

"Agent Gibbs, I can't see it. Dr. Mallard said that I could have a life that was my own. He said that I should plan for it, but I can't see past this room!" He swallowed hard and turned away again. "I don't know how get out of it. Half my life has been in this room, and I can't..."

Gibbs waited for a few seconds and then he walked to Tim and put a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"You'll get out of this room, Tim. ...if you give yourself time. While you're getting out of here, though, you can't ignore everything else."

Tim didn't reply.

"Tim."

"Even if I do...what do I have?" He took a shaky breath. "Now that I'm... there's this room...and what's outside of it is... Erin being dead."

Gibbs understood that as much as another person's loss could be understood. He didn't doubt that Tim had loved Erin, but he also knew that Erin had been a symbol of everything he could have in life. Once she had been killed, it was as if everything he could have had was taken away from him. Violently. Suddenly. Tim needed to be able to see beyond her death. It would take time, though. Like Gibbs had said already, Tim couldn't expect to be normal a few days after he'd been freed from his captors.

"There's more, Tim. You just need to learn to see it."

"How do I do that?"

"With time. You can't rush it."

"I don't want to be like this."

"You don't have to be, but you have to take the time."

"So...what now?"

"Now, you leave the room and get out of the building before they decide to arrest you for trespassing."

Tim actually laughed a little bit and wiped at his eyes.

"How did _you_ get in?"

"_I _was invited."

Tim took a breath and nodded. Gibbs' hand became a guide. He pulled slightly to urge Tim to the door. Tim resisted for a moment and then turned and walked out of the room with Gibbs.

"How did you get away from your parents?"

Tim smiled. "I walked out and told Dr. Mallard I would be back."

Gibbs was a little surprised that Ducky was still hanging out at the hospital, but not more than a little.

"What am I going to do, Agent Gibbs?"

"Not for me to tell you, Tim. You'll need to figure that out for yourself."

Tim took a deep breath, and Gibbs could see that it was definitely going to take time for Tim to be able to think for himself without fear of punishment for it.

They walked out of DARPA together and Tim stopped. He looked back at the building.

"I'll never be in there again, will I."

"I doubt it."

"It's half my life."

"A half worth leaving behind. You need to look forward and stop looking back."

"Mom and Dad want me to go to San Diego and spend some time there."

"Is that what _you_ want?"

"I don't know. Right now...I just...don't know. It's like the clearer my mind is the more confusing everything else is."

"And you thought things would be clearer if you broke into DARPA?"

"I'd hoped they would."

"And?"

"They're not."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Go to San Diego. Don't have anything else."

"Family is a good thing, Tim. Don't knock it."

"I'm not. But I still don't have anything else." Tim walked down the steps and headed for the sidewalk.

"Wait, Tim. I'll give you a ride back."

"You don't need to."

"I know."

Tim stopped and looked at him. There was a glimmer of suspicion, just for a moment. Then, his face cleared and he nodded.

"Okay. Thanks."

Gibbs directed him to his car and drove him to the hospital. Technically, he didn't _need_ to be there still, but they'd decided it was a good place to keep him secure while they were checking into whether or not he was still in danger.

When they got to the hospital, Gibbs walked with Tim to his room...where Ducky was sitting. Tim smiled at Ducky and then walked inside. Gibbs saw his mother and father talking to him and so he sat beside Ducky.

"How did it go?" Ducky asked.

"He's not ready for a real life yet."

Ducky nodded. "I've spoken to his parents. They're going to make sure he gets therapy when they get to San Diego."

"Good."

They were both silent for a moment, watching Tim with his family.

"He wanted me to tell him what to do," Gibbs said.

"Did you?"

"No. I only tell people what to do when they can make the decision for themselves. He can't. He doesn't need someone else making decisions for him. That's all he's ever had."

"No, he doesn't. He's definitely having a hard time adjusting to the idea that he _has_ choices. Not surprising, of course, but it's something he'll have to learn. He's starting to feel the grief of losing his girlfriend, as well. All the chaos kept him from that before, but now... It's hitting him very hard."

"Yeah."

"I'm hopeful that time will prove the best healer."

Gibbs nodded and it suddenly struck him that their part in Tim's life was over. This man who had come into their sphere and taken over, briefly, was now leaving it. It was a bit of a shock to return to the life they'd had before knowing of the existence of Timothy McGee.

Life was getting started for Tim and it was going on for them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As was expected, very little of what had happened showed up in the news. DARPA managed to suppress what had been going on. Tueller did get arraigned on charges of assault, murder and attempted murder. Philip Orlen's body was found, and Tueller pleaded guilty, keeping pretty much all of it out of the courts.

As his parents had wanted, Tim went to San Diego. He left without a word and they didn't hear from him at all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Six months later..._

Tim walked along the beach. The sun was dipping toward the horizon and he was just close enough to the water that the waves would lap at his feet and then recede.

He could admit that his life was better than it had been before, and he could also admit that there was a lot to it, a lot of possibilities. In fact, that was the problem right now. He was spoiled for choice, and he just didn't know what he wanted. He was having a hard time knowing what he should decide.

He walked up the beach a little and sat down in the sand. The sun got lower and lower.

Then, he looked over and saw someone approaching. He smiled.

"Hi, Dad."

"Can I join you?"

"Of course."

Loren sat down beside Tim and looked out at the ocean.

"You've been pretty pensive the last few days, Tim."

"Yeah."

"What are you thinking about?"

"My life. What I'm going to do with it."

"And?"

"And I still don't know. My shrink says that I'm afraid of taking steps forward...because Erin is still there...in the past."

Loren squeezed his shoulder.

"She loved you, didn't she?"

"I think so."

"If so, then, she wouldn't want you to use her as a reason for not moving on."

"No, she wouldn't. She'd hate that."

"There are a lot of possibilities."

"Too many. I don't know how to choose."

"That's the real problem, isn't it."

"Yeah. I just don't know how to choose. How do you learn that? How do you decide which is the best idea, the best choice? What if there are a lot of good choices? How do you pick one? Dad, I don't...know how to do that."

The last rays of the sun turned the ocean red.

"You don't have to _learn_ how to choose. You just do it. What do you want?"

"A life that means something. I want to make a difference...a _good_ difference instead of a bad one."

"There are ways you can do that. A lot of them, not just one, and any one of them could let you be happy."

"I'm not joining the Navy, Dad," Tim said and smiled a little.

Loren smiled, too.

"I wasn't even going to suggest it. ...unless you wanted it."

"I don't. That's the one choice I _can_ make, Dad."

"I'm all right with that. I'll let you choose that."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I want you to be happy, Tim. I don't care if you make a difference. I just want you to be happy...and free to make the life you want."

They sat together in silence until the last color left the sky. Then, they got up and walked back to the parking lot.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was relaxing on his day off. After the chaos of getting Tim freed from his captors, he had realized that having some time when he _wasn't_ required to worry about his mother was as good for his mother as it was for him. He had started taking time to himself. His mother was in respite care for the day and he picked her up in the evening. He'd spent some time with friends and some time reading.

Now, he was relaxing on his porch, waiting for the time when he needed to go and pick up his mother.

His phone rang. He debated answering, but he knew it could be something important. So he pulled out his phone.

"Hello. This is Dr. Mallard."

_"Hi, Dr. Mallard."_

"Who is this?" Ducky asked. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it.

_"It's...Tim... McGee."_

"Oh, Timothy! I'm surprised to hear from you. You left rather precipitously."

_"Yeah. I know. I didn't want to bother anyone. Uh... Could I ask you something?"_

"Of course. It's no trouble at all."

_"My shrink keeps telling me that I need to choose what I'm going to do with my life. He says that it's important that I make the choice."_

"I agree."

There was a soft laugh. _"Well... How do I do that?"_

"Trial and error. You can't know if it's the right choice when you first make it. It takes time."

_"But what if it's really wrong? What if I screw up and ruin things?"_

Ducky smiled, feeling a little sad that Tim was still at this stage, although the fact that he was considering it was a good thing.

"I doubt that you would make a decision like that."

_"But..."_

"Timothy, I trust that you would make a good decision. ...and I'm certain that whatever the decision is, it won't be what I'd expect."

_"Is that a good thing?"_

Ducky laughed. "It depends on the situation, but in this case, unless you chose to pursue a life of crime, I think you will be pleasantly unpredictable."

_"I don't want to pursue a life of crime."_

"Good."

_"Ducky... Uh... Dr. Mallard..."_

"I told you before, Timothy, that you can feel free to call me Ducky if you'd like to."

Tim didn't respond to that.

_"Could I ask you something that you won't tell anyone else?"_

"Of course. I will keep my own counsel if you think it best."

_"What if...I...tried to join NCIS?"_

Ducky _was_ surprised. Pleasantly surprised.

"That is unexpected. In a good way," he said. "I think you would find some challenges given your lack of higher education, but since we are aware of your background here, if you went through someone you know, you'd likely get a fair chance at it."

_"Maybe you?"_

"I'd be more than willing to drop a word in some ears for you."

_"But don't tell anyone there...I haven't decided that's it yet, and I don't want..."_ He didn't finish.

"I understand, Timothy. If that becomes what you want to do, you may contact me...and you may do so any other time as well."

_"Uh...thanks... Dr. Mallard."_

Tim hung up. Ducky leaned back and thought about the conversation. Tim was still uncertain, still wary, but there was a view to the future, even if he was having trouble committing himself to a future. All in all, Ducky thought that he'd be interested in seeing what came of it.

...and if it came to Tim working at NCIS, he'd be happy to work with him, too.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three months later..._

"Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked up from a very interesting email at Michelle Lee. She looked nervous...as was still depressingly common. He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time...and I don't think I'm cut out for this. I want to request a transfer."

"Where to?"

"I was thinking I'd go back to Legal. I'm just not sure that I can handle everything that being a field agent entails...and I don't want to hold the rest of the team back because I'm not getting it."

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I don't want you to think that this is any kind of a slam on you. It's not!"

Gibbs chuckled.

"I don't."

"Good."

"You know...not all field positions are like my team. You might try a transfer to a different team."

Michelle smiled ruefully.

"So you don't mind my leaving?"

"Not if it's what you want, but only if it's really what you want."

"It is."

Gibbs looked at his monitor once more and an idea came to him.

"Can you hold out for three more months?"

She smiled. "I think I can handle that."

"Then, I'll start the paperwork."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. ...and thanks for taking a chance on me. I know you didn't really want me on your team, but you still let me be here. I really appreciate it."

"You're a good agent, Lee. Don't forget that."

Michelle colored a little but she smiled and started for her desk.

"And, Lee?"

"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"

"You ever need help, you can always come to me. We'll still be your team if you need us."

"Thanks," she said sincerely.

Gibbs started going through what he needed to do...and he started another set of forms as well.

This might just work out.


	37. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Four months later..._

They'd been down to three on the team for a few weeks now, but it was time to change that. Finally.

"Let's go," Gibbs said.

"Where are we going, Boss?" Tony asked.

"To get our new team member."

"Is this normal?" Ziva asked. "I did not get a ride to work my first day."

"Not as far as I know," Tony said. "No one picked _me_ up on my first day. I had to get here on my own."

Still, they followed Gibbs, as he had known they would. He smiled to himself. It was a long drive to Norfolk, but he was determined to keep this a secret until they got there.

At first, the drive was silent...but with Tony there, it didn't stay quiet for long.

"Why are we driving to Norfolk to pick up a new agent?"

"He doesn't have a car, yet," Gibbs said.

"So? Can't he figure out how to get to DC on his own? There are ways. He could _rent _a car."

"Yes, he could. He doesn't know that we're coming."

"Are you sure he will be there, then?" Ziva asked. "What if he _does_ make his own way to DC without us?"

"He doesn't know he's been transferred," Gibbs said.

Gibbs could feel Tony's consternation.

"Uh...why is he being transferred if he doesn't know about it? I would have thought that it was pretty essential that he know. He'll have to make arrangements to move, Boss."

Gibbs didn't answer.

The rest of the drive was mostly silent.

When they got to Norfolk, Gibbs led the way to a tiny, crowded office, full of filing cabinets. He knocked once and walked in. ...or rather, he _stepped_ in. There was barely room for more than one step.

The occupant of the office was currently out of view, hidden behind piles of paper on the desk. Then, there was a familiar voice, although there was a lot missing from that voice that had always been there before.

"Just give me a minute, Cassie. I've almost got this stuff organized. I know I'm a little late with it, but I promise that it'll be what you need. It's more organized than it looks."

Then, there was movement as he stood up and Gibbs could see him, although he was still bent over.

"Agent McGee," Gibbs said, sternly, and suppressed a smile.

Tim stopped moving and straightened. He was clearly hesitating in turning around, but he did. There was an expression of shock on his face.

"A-Agent G-Gibbs," he said in surprise. Then, he noticed Tony and Ziva, who were both as surprised as he was. "Agent DiNozzo. O-Officer David. What are you all doing here? I...I..." He had a pile of papers in his hands. "Agent Yates was... supposed to be getting these files. I hadn't heard that...that...there was a case that you'd...be here."

And if he had, he would probably have tried to be out of sight for it, too, Gibbs could tell.

"How long have you been here, _Agent_ McGee?" Tony asked.

"A month."

"You decided to join NCIS?"

"Obviously."

"Why?"

Tim looked at them all. It was clear that he was still trying to figure out why they were there.

"I thought that...I could... contribute something here. ...and NCIS already knew about me; so I didn't have to try and explain everything. And you all seemed to... to have something I could want. I'm taking some college courses online and I'm going to try to get a degree while I'm working. The hiring board said that, as long as I did get a college degree in a reasonable amount of time, it wouldn't work against me."

"It'd be easier in DC, wouldn't it?" Gibbs asked.

"Well...yeah. Sarah is still there. Maybe she'd stop pestering me to get over there so much. There are more universities there. I mean, Norfolk does have places...and they're fine, but there are some really great programs at the universities in DC. I could even maybe take real classes. I always wanted to go to college." He looked a little wistful at the idea but then remembered who was there. "...but I'm stationed here. I'm a case agent. I've been...just working on whatever needs to be done. I'm not really doing much yet."

Gibbs handed Tim the transfer papers. Tim set down the files and took the papers. His brow furrowed and then his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Not anymore, you're not."

"I'm...transferred... to _your_ team, Agent Gibbs?" Tim asked.

"Can't you read?"

"But...that's...a field agent position."

"Yes, it is."

"I'm...new. I haven't finished my...probationary period yet. They said that... that I shouldn't even expect...that it would be a long time before... I'm _new_."

"Yes, you are."

Tim was clearly still having trouble grasping the situation. Gibbs had been keeping tabs on his training, and he was doing all right with firearms, although there was a note that he still needed to improve somewhat... hence, the probationary period. Tim was staring at the transfer papers and reading through them again and again. There was silence for a few seconds as he tried to think of something to say.

"Is Dr. Mallard... Is Ducky still there?"

"Of course," Tony said. "Does he know about this?"

Tim looked up.

"_I_ didn't even know about this. I didn't want to bug him. He said that I could call if I needed help. He put in a good word for me when I applied, but after that...I didn't want to bug him. I didn't even tell him that I'd been hired or that I'd moved here."

"He wouldn't have been bugged," Tony said. "He still talks about you, you know."

"He does?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "He's been wondering what you ended up choosing. If he really doesn't know, he'll be glad to see where you ended up. You can call him on the way. You ready to go?"

"Are you sure you want me on your team? You know what I'm like," Tim said, with a self-deprecatory tone. "I'm... I was..."

Gibbs smiled. Tim knew that he would be working with the people who had seen him in the worst possible situation, and they had seen him in unpleasant situations and he hadn't always been particularly nice. All in all, Gibbs understood why Tim was worried, but he was, quite frankly, very surprised at how together Tim seemed right now. He hadn't be sure if Tim would be up for this. However, he'd been wrong. Tim was nervous and uncertain, yes, but not on the verge of a breakdown as he had been a year ago. The answer was easy.

"Yes, I do. It was my request."

Tim looked from Gibbs to Tony and Ziva. Tony grinned.

"Hey! A new probie! Excellent!"

"This means we will have someone else to do the computer work," Ziva said. "That is a very good thing. Tony is hopeless."

"Speak for yourself, Miss David. She threatens to kill the computers at least twice a day," Tony said.

There was a moment of silence as Tim tried to digest this sudden turn of events.

"Do you want this, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked down at the transfer and then back up.

"Yes," he said, fervently.

"Then, let's go. It's a long drive back to DC. You can worry about moving your stuff later. DiNozzo'll help you. He already offered."

"Only the light stuff," Tony said, with a grin.

Tim stood there for a moment longer and then, started moving around the tiny space very quickly. He wrote a message on a sticky note and stuck it to the files. He closed all the file drawers, shut down his computer and grabbed his bag.

"I'm ready, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded. "Let's go. Welcome to the team, McGee."

Tim finally smiled.

"Thanks."

They walked out of the building and piled into the sedan. As they drove back to DC, Gibbs couldn't help feeling that this was the way things were supposed to be.

FINIS!


End file.
